Shal'tac
by Kethry47
Summary: A mission gone wrong and a team to rescue - Jack O'Neill has more than one problem - Third season, after "Into the Fire", before "Shades of Grey"


**Author's Note:** This is another of my stories that was written waaaaay back when. It was first published in "Seventh Chevron issue # 2", a Stargate SG1 fanzine. I hope you'll still be able to enjoy it now, years later.

Note # 2: I was and still am a Makepeace fan, so don't be surprised when he shows up in a not insignificant role here. *S*

**SHAL'TAC**

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_To_

_some _

_freedom is a gift, granted at birth and never disputed,_

_others_

_dream of and have to fight for it all their lives,_

_many_

_without ever reaching their vision,_

_but_

_most people_

_only know the true value of freedom once they have lost it._

SHAL'TAC

Pain!

Searing ... hot ... unbearable!

Light!

Bright! Blinding. Hurting his eyes.

Voices?

He strained to hear what they were saying.

"It looks like a severe shock of some kind. I can only guess at the cause. It's like he came in contact with some sort of energy and his nerves are going into overload from it. His muscles won't stop contracting. I have never seen anything like it."

A sound –- of someone taking a deep breath?

"And if you look here, sir. His brain patterns are outside the norm, too."

Another slight pause, then the speaker continued.

"Especially the stress readings are **much** too high.... At a guess I'd say it looks as if his mind is caught in some kind of battle and all his guards are still up."

He knew the voice.

Janet Fraiser?

If the doc was there, he must be home. And home meant 'safe'. He relaxed.

"What about the others, Doctor?"

A new voice. Male. General Hammond?

"The same, sir. I suppose Teal'c will wake up soon. His symbiont saved him from most of it.... Sir, the colonel seems to be coming to."

"Colonel O'Neill! ... Colonel O'Neill! ... Jack! Can you hear me?"

He tried to move, to answer.

"We're losing him again.... Sir! Colonel O'Neill!"

The voices were fading away again -- as was the light. Darkness descended.

*****

The next time he awoke, he saw a face bending over him. A female face.

"Doctor Fraiser, Colonel O'Neill is awake." The nurse turned aside and Janet took her place.

"Colonel O'Neill." Janet smiled down on him. "Welcome back with us."

He tried to roll onto his side.

"No, don't move."

Too late. He had already found out for himself that moving hurt. Very much

so. A sharp stab of pain shot through his body, drove the breath out of his lungs. Involuntarily his eyes filled with tears.

Next he felt a new, different sort of pain -– a burning sensation in his right arm. The doc?

"It will be better in a minute," Janet's calm voice promised. He could feel the light touch of her hand on his arm. "Nurse, please, call General Hammond and tell him Colonel O'Neill has regained consciousness and he can talk to him now."

Jack could feel some of the pain abating already. Cautiously, he tried a deep breath.

At least Janet Fraiser kept her promises, even if she couldn't rid herself of this strange fetish for always sticking those damn needles into him.

"What happened?" Was that really his voice? God, it sounded like it had come out of a cement-mixer. He tried again. "Doc?" A bit better already, nothing to get enthusiastic about, but better. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Colonel. We were hoping you could tell us."

He blinked at her, puzzled.

"Colonel O'Neill?" She was looking at him with worried eyes. "Do you know what happened?"

"I .... No...?" He hesitated. He wasn't sure. What **had** happened?

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"We were in that village ...."

"On P7X-935." Janet supplied gently.

"Yeah ... they were nice, friendly people ... well, for a bunch of sword-wielding barbarians. A bit nervous, maybe ... and in a hurry to get rid of us. Strange really ... like we didn't smell right ... or something. Told us we should come back later."

His forehead creased as he was trying to recall the faces of the people there -- of what had transpired.

"They warned us about something ... someone. Wanted us to leave by a different road than the way we came. Said it would be safer. We humored them. Took the other road back to the Stargate. But then ...."

He stopped, frowning.

"Then what?" Startled at the new voice, Jack turned his head. Almost at once he followed the movement with a hiss of pain. Whatever the doc had put into that IV, it wasn't working too well.

Slowly his eyes focused on General Hammond, who had come up to his bedside.

_Hammond? When did __**he**__ get here? _

Jack blinked and tried to recapture his thread. Suddenly his eyes widened. "They came at us out of the sun! Shooting! Firing some kind of energy weapons off at us." Jack's voice rose. He tried to sit up. His memory was returning with a vengeance now.

So was the pain. His breath caught in his throat at the new surge of agony. Drenched in sweat, Jack fell back again.

At once he could feel the doc's hand on his shoulder, holding him down.

"Take it easy, Colonel."

"Who attacked you? The villagers?" General Hammond asked, trying to get back to the report.

"No ... I don't think so. I don't know who attacked us." Jack frowned again, still panting, desperately attempting to dredge up the memory. "Daniel dialed us home. Carter sent the iris code ... and Teal'c and I tried to hold 'em off. Buy us some time."

Absently, he bit his lip. His eyes narrowed. "We couldn't see much. Those bastards knew exactly what they were doing."

Banishing the pain to the back of his awareness, he drew a deep, steadying breath.

In his mind Jack could now clearly see the scene, the energy shots, the Stargate opening behind them. He had ordered everybody to scuttle. Daniel had run for the gate first. Sam had followed, stopping at the foot of the steps to provide cover for him and Teal'c. Then he remembered finally leaving his scant cover too, bringing up the rear together with Teal'c at his side, both of them still firing more or less blindly at their attackers. But before they could all reach the safety of the wormhole, several energy bolts had converged on them, had hit their targets. Everything was a blank after that.

Until he had come to here, back home in the SGC.

"Yes, your momentum must have carried you inside the gate," General Hammond informed him. "That's how you managed to get back, even though those energy shots immobilized you. You arrived on this side unconscious."

Jack realized he had been thinking aloud. "Yes, sir." His gaze locked on the general.

"What about the others, sir? Are they all right?" Why were they looking at him like that? What was wrong?

"Sir?"

The Doc and Hammond exchanged a look. Then Janet nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Doctor Jackson and Teal'c arrived at the SGC in the same condition as you, Colonel O'Neill. Teal'c woke up about half an hour ago. He has basically told us the same story. Doctor Jackson is still unconscious." Hammond stopped, avoiding his glance.

"What about Carter? What's wrong with her?" Jack held his breath. His eyes were moving from Janet to the general. There was something they weren't telling him. What was wrong with Carter?

"I'm sorry, Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter did not come back with you."

*****

"What do you mean, I can't go back?" Colonel O'Neill's angry voice resounded throughout the length and width of the infirmary.

It was an hour later, and Janet was sure that he was still suffering from a massive headache. The tight lines around his eyes and his mouth spoke of it more eloquently than any medical readings. And if her other readings were right, probably every muscle and bone in his body was screaming with the pain caused by the unusual energy concentration he had been subjected to.

The colonel, however, was also unmistakably hopping mad, and he didn't care who knew it -- as usual.

"We've got to go back. Carter is still there. We have already waited much too long. She's been gone for almost three hours." He glared at the doctor standing at his bedside.

"Colonel, be reasonable. What do you think you can accomplish in your present state?"

Careful to keep her voice calm and soothing, Janet tried to make him see sense. Not that she thought she would get anywhere with him. He was itching to go and when Jack O'Neill was in his most stubborn mode, he would ignore anything she or -- in this case -- his own body, were telling him. He was by far the most difficult of all her patients –- another fact she ought to be used to by now. He would never change.

But she had already called in 'reinforcements'.

"Reasonable?" Jack's normally pleasant tenor sank to a dangerous growl. "What's **reasonable** got to do with it? Carter needs help. And there is nothing wrong with my **present state**. I'm fine."

Determined to prove his point, he shifted onto his side and threw back the covers ... an action that only served to invite a new wave of pain. She could see that it hit him hard. For a second he held his breath, as sweat broke out on his face and all color drained from it. But he grimaced, gritted his teeth and swung his legs down onto the floor. When he tried to let the rest of him follow, however, his body betrayed him and his legs gave out. If Janet hadn't caught him and pushed him back on the bed, he'd have fallen flat on his face.

With a meaningful look she held him down. "Still think you're fit enough to go?"

"I've **got** to," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Carter needs me."

"If Major Carter got caught by those unknown forces, she will need competent help. Your present condition doesn't allow you to go anywhere, let alone rescue somebody, Colonel O'Neill."

The 'reinforcements' had arrived. General Hammond's stern expression stopped O'Neill better than anything Janet could have said or done. She had to suppress a sigh of relief.

"But, sir, we've got to **do** something. We can't just abandon her." The colonel still hadn't quite got his breathing under control. He was panting heavily. He was far from feeling 'fine', but Janet could tell that he didn't give a damn. Sam Carter was alone out there, maybe injured and certainly in danger. So he had to be out there, too. "Sir, you've --"

"Colonel O'Neill!" The general's raised hand overruled Jack's protest. "Nobody is abandoning Major Carter. Quite on the contrary. Based on the information you, Teal'c and Doctor Jackson could give us, Colonel Makepeace and SG-3 have already left for a first recon."

When Daniel Jackson had finally regained consciousness, he hadn't been able to shed any more light on the strange attack than his friends had. The only thing he could tell them had been the name of what, or who, the villagers had warned them about. Shal'tac. But, he didn't know what it meant and neither did Teal'c.

Armed with this information -- meager as it was -- and determined to bring back Major Carter, SG-3 had set off half an hour ago.

"When can I follow them?"

The colonel really had a one-track mind sometimes. Janet tried not to let her exasperation show.

She was sure that he had to be silently gnashing his teeth at the thought of having to let Colonel Makepeace rescue Sam. Not that he didn't trust the other man to do the job. He would do his best; Jack knew that perfectly well. If necessary, Robert Makepeace would give his life to save another member of the SGC.

But of course, O'Neill was determined to go himself. It was fear, Janet realized. He was afraid; afraid for Sam Carter, afraid of what might have happened to her, afraid and probably feeling guilty, too. Survivor's guilt. So, whatever they would find, he just had to be there. Sam was part of **his** team.

"Doctor?" Hammond was turning to Janet Fraiser.

"I can't say for certain. This type of energy is totally new to us. We don't have any experience with the effects it has on the human body. The painkillers we've administered, for example, seem to work for only half an hour at the most, when by rights they should keep the pain down for hours."

Janet grabbed a chart from the footboard of Jack's bed and consulted the readings.

"Based on these test results of how the energy levels in their bodies have been dropping in the last hour, I can only estimate that the last residues of this curious energy overload will be gone in another four or five hours. Always assuming they keep dropping at the same rate."

She put the chart back and looked straight at the general.

"It looks like the alien energy is either absorbed by the human system or else it is simply abating ... somehow. That is all I can't tell you. Anyway, the pain should subside to a bearable level then and full muscle control should return slowly." She sighed softly and continued, "But this is all still only guesswork so far. I'm sorry, sir." Janet could only shrug apologetically.

General Hammond turned to Jack O'Neill. "You heard the doctor, Colonel O'Neill. I suggest you follow her orders and try to get some rest. As soon as you are fit and able, we will talk again about going back." He paused. "With a little luck we may have news from SG-3 by then and will be in a better position to help Major Carter."

With a nod to Doctor Fraiser and a last, stern look at his glaring officer the general left the infirmary.

"With luck!" Jack O'Neill snorted derisively. It wasn't difficult to follow his thoughts. If things were going the usual way -- from bad to worse -- Sam Carter would probably need much more than just luck.

*****

On planet P7X-935 somebody else was thinking about luck. Or, rather, the lack thereof. This time, SG-3's already fabulous luck seemed to have run out. The only team that was generally considered to be even more favored by the capricious lady of luck and good fortune was SG-1. And SG-1 had just proved that occasionally they got their share of dark moments, too. Now apparently, it was SG-3's turn to have their quota of misfortune dished out.

Earlier

"Dammit, folks, we've got to find those people. They can't have just fallen off the face of the planet."

Colonel Makepeace growled, frustrated and angry. It was not a mixture his men were happy to see. They knew from past experience that their leader didn't like enigmas. They went against his military thinking. He had this abominable tendency to delve into mysteries. He wanted them solved. Clean slate, case closed, mission accomplished -- all very nice and straight.

Sometimes this didn't bode too well for SG-3.

So now, they were watching Makepeace with wary eyes.

Okay, the village was empty, not a soul to be found anywhere. They must have searched every house and barn, and found nothing. The whole population seemed to have disappeared like a puff of smoke. Their possibly only lead on Major Carter's whereabouts had vanished with the villagers, too. So, what better way than to go back now and tell General Hammond what they'd found -- or not? Come back later with reinforcements. This **was** supposed to be a first recon mission only, wasn't it?

They would not have admitted it, but the empty village was severely getting on their nerves. It was creepy. No sounds, no movements, like a place of the death. Except that there were no bodies, no signs of a struggle, nothing. Eerie.

Nervously they looked around them, on guard and weapons at the ready.

"Now, where is everybody?" Makepeace wasn't about to give up yet. They had nothing to tell the general, no sign of Carter, no sign of anything or anybody. There hadn't even been recognizable tracks at the gate. No, sir, he wasn't going to go back empty-handed, not by a long shot.

"Sir!" Lieutenant Johnson's hoarse whisper broke the uncanny silence. He pointed to a gap between two houses.

Something was moving in the shadows.

Silently Makepeace signaled for his men to surround the place. His own weapon trained on the suspicious spot, he headed straight for the gap, with Johnson covering his six and the other two moving in from the flanks.

Huddled against the side of one of the houses they found a little girl of about seven or eight, clutching a small dog to her side. She was watching them out of wide, terrified eyes.

"Hello there ... who are you, sweetheart?" Colonel Makepeace tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, pitching it to what he surmised was a soothing, friendly tone.

He succeeded only in making her cower farther back from them. The dog gave off a whimper at being pressed deeper into the wall of the house.

Somewhat helplessly Makepeace looked at his men. Johnson, who had two kids of his own, moved in to try his luck.

Still some feet away, so as not to frighten her even more, he got down on one knee in front of the girl.

"Hi, honey. Don't be afraid. We're not gonna hurt you. We're only looking for a friend of ours." He smiled at her. "My name is Pete. Will you tell me yours?"

At first she just looked at him. Then some of the fear seemed to be leaving her small, tense frame.

Hesitantly she smiled back at him. "Pete?" She tried his name.

"Yeah, that's my name. What's yours?" They had to get her talking. Maybe she could tell them what had happened.

"Janna," she shyly answered.

"Hi, Janna. Nice to meet you." Slowly Johnson held out a hand to her. When she took it, cautiously, he gently pulled her to her feet, rising with her.

"These are my friends. They won't hurt you, I promise." Still holding on to her hand he turned around and slowly drew her with him, out of the shadows, careful not to spook her again.

"Hi Janna. Can you tell us what's happened here, where everybody is?" Colonel Makepeace was impatient for answers, even though he realized that they had to tread carefully with the obviously terrified child. He dropped to his knees in front of her, trying to radiate goodwill and friendliness.

Holding onto Johnson's hand, she shrank back again at the colonel's direct question and looked up at the large, black man. She seemed to trust only him.

Johnson knelt down again next to her, too. "Janna, we're here to find a friend of ours. She needs our help. Maybe your folks can tell us something about her. Can you tell us where everybody is?"

"Colonel Makepeace, sir!" Edelman had only just taken his eyes off the girl and had looked around them. "I don't think we need her to answer the last question."

Looking up, they all now noticed that they were surrounded by about a dozen grim-faced, silent men and women. They were closing in on the little group with angry, determined eyes -- and raised weapons.

*****

"They take people and sell them as slaves when they have finished with them. They call themselves the Shal'tac. Once or twice a turn they come through the portal and take those of our young people who are unfortunate enough to fall into their hands."

The pain that filled the old man's voice spoke of more than just one lost family member.

"That is why we always keep a watch on the portal, and as soon as they arrive, we sound the alarm and hide. We cannot go near them." The villager elder was adamant. "We must stay in hiding until they have satisfied their hunger and have moved on again, back through the portal. Only then will we be safe. There is no other way if we want to stay free."

Makepeace and the rest of SG-3 sat among a small group of the scared villagers in their hideout deep in the mountains. Looking about him, the Marine realized that the big cave probably saw a lot of use. It looked spacious and well equipped. There was bedding, provisions, and everything these people needed to stay for several days. If what the old man had told them was true, they were going to be here for a while yet. The cave was dark, but safe. Nobody would leave it before the all-clear had been sounded.

Only reluctantly a few of the villagers had come out of their hiding place to look for the little girl. When her puppy had been left behind during the flight, she had stolen away to fetch it. Her worried parents and some of the more courageous of their friends had gone out trying to save her, fearing the worst when they had seen the strangers she was with.

Some hurried explanations and a reference to SG-1 later, the staffs and swords the villagers had been toting had been packed away. They had all retreated to the village hideout together, where SG-3 had learned more about the mysterious Shal'tac and the probable fate of Major Samantha Carter.

The locals were only too willing to share their tales of the strange and feared hunters who terrorized the planet, but they were also very explicit in stating that none of them would lead SG-3 to them.

"We cannot help you!" The old man was no to be moved.

"Listen, friend. Just send **one** of your people with us to show us the way; we'll be there to protect him." Makepeace tried to catch the eye of any of the younger men who clustered around them. The old folks might be too scared, but what about the younger people?

"Protect them?" The elder snorted disdainfully. "Your **own** people couldn't protect themselves. How will you protect one of ours? You will fall victim to the Shal'tac like everybody does. They'll make you slaves, too." There was regret in his voice, regret and also fear; he knew the Shal'tac and what they could do.

"We'll be careful, you can be sure of that. And we've got weapons; nobody will make us slaves."

"Your friends had weapons. It didn't help them. The Shal'tac have more than weapons. They have **magic**. I am sorry, but my people cannot go with you." With another almost guilty look, the old man offered the only help he was willing to give. "You and your men are welcome to stay with us until the hunters have left again. We have enough food. You will be safe here."

"Thank you, Elder; but no, we can't do that." The old man might think they had nothing more to say, but Makepeace hadn't played all his cards yet.

In the end, after a lot more talking and some open baiting, the Marine managed to convince the village elder to let one of the younger men come with them, a volunteer, one of those who kept a surreptious watch on the Stargate. He would lead them as close to the Shal'tac camp as he dared. He would then come straight back to the villagers' hiding place and SG-3 would be on their own for the rest of the way to search out the hunters alone.

According to the villagers, the Shal'tac had a semi-permanent camp somewhere in the foothills of the big mountain range, about an hour's march from the Stargate. When they left the planet again, their camp stayed guarded by their 'magic' and no one could go near it.

*****

"Some **magic**.... DAMN! ... Do you suppose this is what they meant, sir?"

"Yeah, probably.... Shit!"

Colonel Makepeace and Sergeant Harris tried to crouch lower. They lay on a rocky hill top overlooking the Shal'tac camp, concealed behind some shrub-covered boulders -- or so they had believed. Until a burst from an energy weapon had taught them differently. Now they were simply hanging on for dear life, as bolt after bolt seared the surrounding vegetation.

"Can you see any other way out, sir?"

"No, Harris, none. Going back didn't work, and I don't think advancing's an option."

"Yeah, enemy fire from every direction, sir. They've got us surrounded."

"Looks like it. Damn bad luck."

Everybody's luck ran out some time. Theirs had now.

"Do you think Johnson and Edelman made it, sir?"

"They've got to. We weren't spotted before we tried to get down there."

Makepeace jerked his head at the valley below them, where two big tents stood amid some strange, obviously permanent structures. He spared a thought for his two men.

That was the only good thing about the whole mess so far. He had sent off Johnson and Edelman the moment they had spied the camp, with orders to make their way back to the Stargate, return to Earth and come back with a larger rescue party.

Makepeace could only hope they had made it through. These Shal'tac were much more observant than he had expected.

Meanwhile Harris and he had definitely got the short end of the deal. He didn't count the odds of their surviving this encounter as very high.

_None that I would care to play in Vegas,_ the Marine thought sarcastically.

Another energy bolt struck the earth right next to him, so close that some of the energy was tingling along his arm. But it really wasn't doing anything except make his muscles twitch.

"Damn! Those bastards are playing with us!"

Had they wanted to kill them, they could have easily done so already. The cover the rocks provided was scarce, almost non-existent. Whoever was shooting at them, they had to have a front row seat.

If only he could see the enemy.

_A target, please. Hell, just a direction will do._ His thoughts were racing helplessly. The Shal'tac had chosen their positions well. The energy bursts seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"Harris, we've got to make a run for it. On this lousy hill we're too exposed. Those damn slavers can take us out at their leisure. Let's show them we're no helpless rabbits."

Makepeace took a deep breath. His face turned grim. Going down fighting would definitely be better than being toyed with and eventually being fried without the slightest chance.

However, when the Marine rolled onto his stomach to find a better shooting position, the Shal'tac had apparently decided to end their little game. Makepeace was still lifting his weapon as an energy blast flashed close by. Harris sagged back limply, unconscious. A few seconds later the colonel suffered the same fate. He never saw the strangely masked men coming for them, nor felt them hauling their unresisting bodies down into the camp.

For the moment the rescue operation was on hold.

*****

Johnson and Edelman were having problems of their own, though no way as serious as the one their commanding officer was facing. They had reached the Stargate and found somebody else there already. Masked somebodies. Three of them. They were grouped in a half-circle around the gate, obviously expecting someone.

The two Marines were careful to stay under cover. They remembered SG-1's report only too well. These unknown slavers were too dangerous to confront on their own. It didn't take Johnson long to arrive at the decision that it was wise to stay in hiding and wait until the coast was clear again before they would make their move to return to the SGC.

While they were still watching the masked trio, the Stargate burst into activity. When the wormhole had subsided to its usual serene, watery blue surface, two people stepped through.

They were similarly garbed to the men awaiting them, animal hide trousers and shirts and feather-trimmed masks covering their heads, though the masks of the newcomers were much more elaborate and colorful than those of the others. After a hurried conference they all set off together in the direction of the Shal'tac camp.

Johnson couldn't help wondering what that had all been about.

He and Edelman waited until a suitable time had passed, before furtively making their way down to the gate. Quickly they dialed the co-ordinates for Earth, sent the iris code and leapt into the ring.

*****

"Well, that should cover it. You know everything SG-3 has found out on P7X-935." General Hammond looked at the assembled team members of SG-1, SG-3 and SG-8. "Any questions?" When nobody offered a question or any other observation, the general stood up.

"Then I suggest you get ready. I'll see you in the gate room in half an hour. ... Dismissed."

As the SG teams were leaving, he turned to SG-1. "Colonel O'Neill, a word, please."

"I have spoken to Doctor Fraiser, Colonel O'Neill, and she says that you, as well as Dr. Jackson and Teal'c, are all three still suffering from the after-effects of the energy bursts." Forestalling Jack's protest, the general raised his hand. "**But** ... Doctor Fraiser thinks that you will be able to conduct the mission. She has no objections to your going."

What he didn't say was that Janet Fraiser had frankly told him she saw no way to make any one of them stay at the SGC, -- short of keeping them drugged to the hilt. So, instead of having to fight the three men every step of the way, the general had wisely decided to let SG-1 go, too.

Even at less than perfect health, Jack O'Neill was capable of handling anything that would come his way, Teal'c could hold his own in any given situation and Hammond had long since given up underestimating Daniel Jackson. There was more to the bespectacled young archaeologist than met the eye. He was confident they would get the job done.

He knew they wouldn't come back without Samantha Carter.

"Jack," he added, hesitatingly. "I'm sorry, I can't give you any more men. All the other teams are either off-world or on stand-down and off-base. SG-8 is the only other team available right now. I know we dare not wait any longer. Not when these Shal'tac might use the gate to take their prisoners to another planet."

"I know, sir. They will just have to do." It was unmistakable that Jack was afraid they had already waited too long. He was more than just anxious to go. He looked at the general, opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again, unable to find the right words. Hammond just nodded. He understood.

Half an hour later he watched them walk up the ramp and disappear into the blue energy curtain of the Stargate. All **he** could do at the moment was wait.

*****

"All right, kids, keep your eyes peeled. This is enemy country. You know what their weapons can do. Make sure they don't do it to you and we'll all be just fine."

As an inspiring pep talk it left much to be desired, but Jack had never been one for great speeches.

"Johnson, Edelman, lead the way."

With the two SG-3 team members taking point, the small SG force set out towards the Shal'tac camp.

_Hang on, Carter, we're on the way._ Jack's throat was parched. He had to force his fear down. She had been in the hands of these slavers for more than twelve hours now. A lot could happen in twelve hours.

*****

"Aaaaahhhh." A muted groan escaped from the throat of the stirring man.

A hand lightly touched his face. "Shh.... Take it easy, sir. Don't try to move." The hand seemed to smooth his hair back. "It will be better soon. You've been shot with an unknown energy weapon. But the effects will soon fade away."

"Ca-arter?" He couldn't manage more than a hoarse whisper. He had no control over his voice.

"It's all right, Colonel Makepeace. Just try to relax. It helps." She sounded as if she knew from experience. She probably did, his befuddled mind realized belatedly. They had shot her at the gate, just as the rest of SG-1 had been hit. Carter just had had the misfortune to drop outside of the wormhole.

"Ma-jor ... are you ... o--kay?" His voice was still slurry and as he tried to move his head, the muscles in his back and shoulders contracted violently. The pain drove the air out of his lungs.

"I'm fine. I told you not to move, sir," Carter gently reprimanded him. "Don't they teach you to follow orders in the Marine Corps?"

It took him a moment to realize that she was apparently trying to make a joke – albeit a somewhat forced one. The pain was still clouding his mind. What was she trying to tell him? Why would she so deliberately mention following orders?

"I'm ... ah ... a colonel. There're ... not many ... people ... I have to take ... orders from," he wheezed haltingly, falling in with her, even though every breath still was a painful struggle.

"Well, you'd better take them from me now, sir. Lie still!"

Makepeace wasn't sure, but he thought he could detect a smile in her voice. She sounded okay. He decided that obeying her would probably not be a bad idea right now. Question time could come later. He concentrated on forcing his aching muscles to relax.

Slowly he was getting aware of his surroundings. A tent, not very much light, people moving around them, whispering in muted, frightened tones. His body lying on a hard surface, his head cradled on something soft -- Carter's lap, obviously.

Cautiously he tried to move his head, to better assess the situation. He groaned when a new stab of agony coursed through his body.

Suddenly his view was limited by an unfamiliar face hovering over him.

"Here, let your friend drink this. It will help reduce the pain." A jug of something liquid was offered.

Carter raised his head and put the jug to his lips, tilting it, so he could drink. Gasping, he took several swallows of the bitter, syrupy stuff.

"Thank you." She gave the jug back to its owner. The woman nodded once and disappeared again.

"You're sure ... that's not ... some kind of poison, Carter?" The tangy taste of the strange medicine still lingered on Makepeace's tongue.

"I know it tastes horrible, sir, but it helps." Again he guessed at an experience she had lived through herself. She smiled half-heartedly at him. "All good medicine tastes horrible, or have you forgotten?"

He still had no idea what was going on; but was he imagining things or was the pain already lessening a bit? Carter was right -- whatever it was, the stuff was helping. So, again he tried to match her spirit. "Yeah, sure, but that doesn't mean this has to taste like Jack O'Neill's old socks have stewed in it for hours."

At the mention of her CO's name she sobered. She bit her lip. "How ... how is the colonel? Daniel? Teal'c? How's everybody?"

"The last time I saw them they were giving Doc Fraiser hell and by now they are probably flirting with her nurses." He was watching her face and so he saw the relief wash over it.

"They're okay?"

"Yep, ought to be on their way here soon. I sent Johnson and Edelman back through the gate as soon as we knew where the camp was. Harris and I stayed to watch."

Suddenly something occurred to him. "Harris! What happened to Harris? He was with me." He struggled to sit up, but Carter's hand and the renewed onslaught of pain restrained him.

"I'm here, sir." Harris' voice answered him from somewhere on his left.

Makepeace turned his head. If he took it slow and easy, he could almost convince himself that it didn't hurt any more. Harris was lying next to him, propped up against some rolled-up blankets. "I'm fine, sir. I woke up some time ago, and I followed Major Carter's orders." He attempted a smile. It looked more like a grimace, but Makepeace knew that Harris would rather die than openly admit to any pain.

"Okay, so now that we are all together in here, what do we do now?"

*****

"Makepeace, come in, Makepeace!" Jack O'Neill called into his comm unit for the umpteenth time. "Dammit ... Makepeace, where are you? ... SG-3, come in. Talk to me, Makepeace!"

Jack turned to Johnson. "Where did you leave them?"

"Right at the foot of that hill over there, sir." The lieutenant was pointing to the nearest rise of a whole ridge of foothills lying in front of them. "Colonel Makepeace was gonna try to get to the top and see if he could spy any signs of Major Carter. They wanted to wait for us there."

"Then why doesn't the jarhead acknowledge our signal?" Jack growled, frowning.

Part of him wanted to rush out and storm over that hill, right into the enemy camp and free Carter, but another part of him -- the sensible, military part -- was screaming a warning at him. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

There had to be a reason Makepeace wasn't answering his calls. And he was afraid that he wasn't going to like that reason.

"Jack?" Daniel's voice openly displayed the worry Jack was trying to hide. "If Makepeace doesn't answer, it must mean ---"

"I know what it means, Daniel," Jack interrupted him brusquely. "He can't answer. And that in turn means that they got him."

"You can't know that for sure," Daniel protested. Jack could almost see the thoughts rushing through the younger man's mind. If they had Makepeace, what did it mean for them and their chances of rescuing Sam? It didn't bode too well.... Yeah, and he was probably right. Again, Daniel's voice broke into his darkening thoughts. "Maybe he's busy. Maybe he can't hear us. Maybe ---"

"Maybe... maybe... maybe nothing!" Jack cut him short. He held up a hand to prevent any more maybes. Danny would go on like that forever if nobody stopped him. The guy just had too much imagination.

For that matter, so had he. Jack could imagine several scenarios quite well. Makepeace captured, just like Carter, ... Makepeace dead, Carter imprisoned and suffering unknown tortures at the hands of those slavers,... the worst, Carter dead just like Makepeace.

_No, hold it! Don't go there! Don't even __**think**__ it! She's alive! She's okay. And so's Makepeace. The jarhead probably got careless and they caught him, too. Now they're both together somewhere over there, planning and plotting their escape. ... Dammit! They've __**got **__to be okay!_

"Let's move out, people. Watch your backs! Watch the front! Watch everything! Those jokers aren't new at this job. They are alert and they are dangerous. We're here to rescue Major Carter, not join her as the prize beef at some slave market. Got that?"

Affirmation all around. Grim-faced they moved on.

*****

Robert Makepeace was taking stock of his surroundings. He could move more freely now. There was still some pain and occasionally a muscle would spasm, but it was bearable.

There were at least twenty people in the tent, more than half of them women. They were all fairly young - late teens or early twenties - and all looked fit and healthy. Probably what their captors would consider prime material for the slave market, he thought.

"Major Carter?"

"Hm? Oh ... yes, sir?" She crouched down next to him, balancing three bowls with fruit and what looked like bread and some kind of sliced meat. The strange woman who had brought him the medicine was passing out food and as the only able-bodied of them, Carter had gone to collect their share.

"There are no guards, no one is shackled, no chains, nothing to hold these folks here." He looked around him again. "Why doesn't anybody try to get away?"

"They don't need chains and shackles to hold people here." The unknown, older woman suddenly appeared at his side and squatted down next to them. "Anybody who tries to leave the tent dies," she stated with conviction. Her eyes wandered from one of them to the other with a strange, unfathomable expression. Makepeace could feel his hackles rise.

Before he could react, though, Carter nodded. "Yes, there is an energy barrier around the tent, sir. They have already given a demonstration of what happens when someone tries to cross the barrier."

She paused for a moment, shuddering inwardly at the memory. "It isn't nice," she added softly, remembering the girl the masked men had so callously shoved into the energy field. She had been the only one who had not recovered immediately after drinking the medicine. She had kept coughing and struggling for breath, and she had constantly been asking for home. The masked ones had grabbed her and she hadn't even had the time to scream. One minute she had been there, crying, the next she was gone in a blue haze of energy.

Makepeace had caught the major's reaction, but decided to ask her for details later. Right now they had another priority. He was still a far cry from giving up. This energy barrier was just another complication to deal with. He was confident that together they would come up with a plan to fix it. "So, how do we get out?"

"We don't, sir." Sam Carter sounded dejected all of a sudden. The self-assured, competent soldier and scientist he knew so well was gone, replaced by a woman who seemed to have given in to despair.

Shocked, Makepeace stared at her. "Major Carter! What's wrong with you? Don't tell me you have given up. Dammit, Major, I need your help! Carter, you can't give up," he ordered her sharply, gripping her arm hard.

"We'd better eat, sir." Carter was avoiding his eyes. She freed her arm. "Colonel, you and Sergeant Harris need to build up your strength. The Shal'tac don't like weakness."

Somehow the tone of her voice told him that he didn't want to know what happened to people who were considered weak.

Puzzled by her uncharacteristic behavior, his eyebrows drew together, but after a moment, Makepeace subsided and took the proffered bowl. He started eating. Harris and Carter did the same.

Almost absently he noted that the older woman had left them to talk to some of the other captives.

Makepeace kept frowning at the major. If he hadn't, he'd have missed it. For just a split second she looked at him. Her eyes moved to his side and she widened them almost imperceptibly. Then her face became unreadable again, but the message had been pretty clear.

_Be careful, what you say! Don't trust anybody._

He relaxed slightly. They'd talk later.

*****

"George, we've got to follow them immediately." Jacob Carter was adamant. About half an hour earlier he and several other Tok'ra had shown up at the Stargate Command. General Hammond had been expecting them; well, he had been expecting Jacob. He had sent news of what had happened to the Tok'ra, and he had known Jacob would come.

What he hadn't expected was the disturbing news Jacob Carter had brought with him.

"The Tok'ra know the Shal'tac. They are slavers of the worst kind. Very often they simply kill those they don't take to sell. We try to avoid them if possible," Jacob had stated. "Their energy weapons are extremely dangerous, even to us. Technically they are based on the same principle as the Goa'uld weapons, but they use a different energy source."

"And it is the energy generated by this particular crystalline material that is the problem," one of Jacob's companions explained. "It takes an inordinately long time to leave the human body. Somehow it connects to the energy inherent to every living tissue and cumulates. Anybody who is hit by these weapons once, experiences violent muscle spasms due to the energy concentration generated in the muscle tissue. When a human is struck several times, though, the accumulated energy proves too much for the body to compensate for and so it will burn up the person from inside."

Shocked silence followed his announcement.

"How many shots can a body absorb, before that happens?" Janet Fraiser was apparently remembering the strange energy residues she had found in the bodies of Colonel O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c. All the evidence she had, pointed to the fact that they had been hit by more than one shot.

"A normal, healthy body will be able to suffer up to three or four hits out of a standard Shal'tac weapon in the space of forty-eight hours without major harm. Any more and death will occur."

"What happens when the forty-eight hours are up?" George Hammond found it difficult to envision such a weapon.

"Then, strangely, the energy dissipates and the human body is free again."

"Do you see now why we must follow them, George?" Jacob Carter looked at his old friend. "They must be warned. They have all been hit at least once, probably even more times already. Any further hits might kill them."

The knowledge wouldn't stop Jack O'Neill. They all knew that, but he had to be informed of the additional risk.

Janet Fraiser, however, wasn't satisfied yet. "Isn't there anything you can do against these weapons -- or some way to neutralize the effect?"

"There may be," one of the Tok'ra admitted hesitantly. "Our scientists are working on a means to counteract and to eventually prevent the energy's accumulation. For the moment all we can offer, though, is an as yet untested shield generator. It produces a new kind of protective force shield, but we don't know whether it will really work. It may not stop the energy of the Shal'tac weapons."

"We have a few of these shield generators with us. They're small, easily portable personal shields and we'd like your permission to offer them to your men to try them," another added.

"By all means, do it." George Hammond wasn't about to take a possible chance of protection away from his people.

*****

"What's wrong, Major Carter?" Robert Makepeace sat with his back against a tent pole, one arm casually draped around her shoulders, so he could easily whisper into her ear. She definitely wasn't very comfortable with the arrangement; he could feel it in the stiffness of her spine, but this was the best way to talk without attracting any undue attention. Many of the other captives were huddled together in similar arrangements. He cast a sideways glance around the tent. Nobody seemed to be taking any notice of them.

"I don't trust that woman," she whispered back, turning slightly in his arms, so it would look as if she was seeking comfort in his embrace. "She is far older than anybody here, she knows too much and she constantly tries to discourage everybody. She keeps telling us that an escape is absolutely impossible."

"When you and I know perfectly well that nothing is **absolutely impossible**." He couldn't help the slight grin as he teased her. He was immensely relieved that her earlier behavior had been a ruse only, staged for the benefit of whatever strange ears might have been listening.

"Right, sir." She hesitantly smiled back at him.

"Have you found a way to get out yet, Major?" he inquired softly.

"I think so, sir," she answered just as softly.

"Careful, Colonel, Major," Sergeant Harris had been keeping watch unobtrusively. "Company coming," he announced in a whisper.

To keep up the fiction, Carter cuddled deeper into Makepeace's embrace.

It was the woman they had been discussing.

"The Shal'tac will soon come to choose the first ones to leave for their new owners." She looked at them pointedly.

"How do you know?" Makepeace certainly wasn't known for diplomacy or restraint.

"What new owners?" Carter asked, trying to mask the alarm she felt.

The older woman -- she had said earlier that her name was Darina, Sam suddenly remembered -- smiled. Sam didn't like the smile. It dredged up unpleasant memories. It reminded her of the time she had spent on Netu, of the feeling of utter helplessness she had experienced in the grip of Sokar's minions.

"You'll see." With another, enigmatic smile Darina turned around and went away again.

"What was **that** all about?" Colonel Makepeace turned to her, a frown marring his forehead.

"I don't know, sir," she replied, a corresponding frown on her face. "But I think we should be very careful, Colonel. Whatever happens, we must try to stay together."

"Yeah." Makepeace was again scrutinizing the tent and their fellow captives. "What did you have in mind when you said you might know a way to get out of here?" He resumed their former topic.

A nod sent Harris to take up his covert guard duty again.

"Sir, we may not normally be able to get through the shield that they have around the tent, but they have to take it down from time to time."

She could tell that she had the Marine's undivided attention now by the way his body suddenly tensed.

"Tell me more, Major," he commanded.

"Well, sir," she explained. "How else are the food and the other stuff getting in? And then Darina," she nodded at the older woman, "often leaves the tent on some errand and comes back later with more stuff. For that time at least they have to either take the barrier down completely or else build some kind of portal or throughway. There is no other way, sir."

"And at those times the barrier can be passed without any danger," he continued, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir," she agreed, adding, "Personally I think, taking the whole thing down is much easier than creating a 'door'. The energy needed for that would be much too high. Besides, Colonel, look around you. These people here are much too frightened to even think of escaping."

"You said Darina leaves the tent, Carter," Colonel Makepeace was thinking out loud, still pursuing their earlier thread. He looked at Sam and noticed the faint smile playing around her lips.

She nodded. "Yes, my thoughts exactly."

"Sir?" Harris was turned away from them, watching the other people in the tent, but he had been following their hushed conversation.

"Simple, Sergeant. How do the Shal'tac know when to lower the shield?"

Harris briefly looked back at Major Carter before he answered her. "They can't, Major. Not unless that Darina-woman notifies them of her intentions somehow."

"Right. And to be able to do that she has to have some means of communicating with them."

"Or else she's got a device that allows her to switch off the barrier herself." Makepeace spun the thread on.

"Either way, if we want to get out, it will have to be through her," Carter summed it up.

"Yeah."

A sudden commotion at the entrance of the tent made them look up. All the muted conversations stopped as the captives caught sight of the masked figures that had entered the tent.

"Rise! It is the time of the choosing."

Sam Carter flinched. Somehow the command had suddenly taken her back in time. To another planet, where a dark-skinned Jaffa had uttered almost the same words to a crowd of frightened people, some of whom were to become hosts for the Goa'uld larvae.

Were the Shal'tac procuring Goa'uld hosts?

*****

"How the hell did they know we were here?" Jack O'Neill hollered over the noise of the fight. He wasn't addressing anybody in particular, but rather venting his frustration.

The minute they had crested the hill, the energy bolts had started coming at them from all sides. Now the SGC forces were pinned down among the rocks and crevices of the hillside, returning the fire. So far, miraculously, none of them had been hit.

"Where are the bastards?" Major Parker of SG-8 had found cover behind a large outcrop of rocks. "I can't see anybody."

"Just fire in the direction the shots are coming from," Jack advised. He was doing the same, or trying to. It was very difficult to fix the exact spots the shots were originating from. He was only glad they had brought lots of ammo. And this time the sun wasn't giving the enemy an advantage.

**This time** he meant to have a different outcome to the encounter with those Shal'tac bastards.

*****

They had all been lined up inside the tent. Only Darina stayed in the background, watching.

_What is she watching for? What is her position? Who is she really?_ This wasn't the first time that Sam Carter wondered about the strange woman's identity.

Sam stood between Harris and Makepeace, unconsciously demonstrating that they were a team.

Slowly two of the masked men began to make their way along their lined-up booty.

The other three stayed at the entrance of the tent, watching, aiming their strange weapons at the captives -- ready to punish at the first sign of a possible revolt.

When the two men came to the SGC people, they stopped. One glance at Darina, and the woman strolled over to them.

"They are not what we are looking for. They are too old. Explain!" One of the men ordered curtly.

Darina boldly returned the look. Her almost imperious gaze stayed on the masked man. "I have chosen them myself. They are valuable warriors. You know that we need fresh blood for the arena. And the woman may not be young, but she is beautiful -- and a warrior, too. Think of the crowds she will bring, eager to watch the games."

The woman didn't sound submissive at all; she obviously wasn't a servant, and her behavior indicated that she was of equal rank, at least. Sam Carter was sure now that Darina was a Shal'tac.

The second man suddenly grabbed Sam's face, turning her head from side to side, looking her over.

"Yes, you are right," he agreed. "She is not young, but her beauty will bring many to watch her fight ... and to eventually see her pay the ultimate price."

He laughed softly, maliciously. "And the men are with her. They will make a good fighting team." He hadn't missed the way Makepeace and Harris had tensed when he had touched Carter. "I may claim this one for myself, when you offer them up for sale." He looked again at the captured woman, appraising her. "Testing her fighting spirit might prove to be fun."

He turned back to Darina. "You have chosen well." After another brief look at the other captives he announced, "We will leave now. There have been reports of strangers traveling through the ring. Besides, the festival will begin tomorrow. We have acquired enough new blood for now."

With that he swiveled around and swept out of the tent, followed by the other masked men and by Darina, who exited the tent in their wake.

When the tent had closed behind them the usually unflappable Makepeace lost his calm and cursed loudly. "I'll see them in hell first! Arrogant bastards! Fresh blood for the arena! Testing you himself! Wait till I get my hands on him, I'll give him his **test**."

"Colonel," Sam Carter turned to him, grabbing his arm to get his attention. "They said they had enough new blood. That they are going to leave."

"You think they'll take us with them, right?" he inquired. "Damn, Darina has left with them. How are we gonna make our move now? We need her to get through the barrier. Got any other ideas, Carter?"

"Sir!" Harris was pointing to the tent opening. A small, metallic ball was rolling into the tent. As they watched, uncomprehending, the ball started emitting a soft reddish light that soon filled the whole tent.

All Makepeace could manage was one step towards the object, then his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, unconscious again. Next to him Carter, Harris and everybody else followed suit.

The Shal'tac didn't take any risks with their new property. Unconscious people couldn't fight or escape. They were no trouble that way. The Shal'tac had long years of experience in dealing with their merchandise.

*****

"Colonel O'Neill, I think I made out one of them." Major Parker was intently watching a point slightly above them. "A lot of the fire seems to be coming from somewhere to the right of that pinnacle." He pointed to a rock outcrop to their left.

"Okay, kids, keep firing. But be careful." Jack O'Neill motioned to his people to continue their defensive fire. He nodded at the major. "Parker, you and me together. Let's concentrate on that one. Maybe we can take them out one by one. There's got to be a way to break through."

They had been pinned down here for almost half an hour now and nothing had changed. He thought it damned strange that the enemy had so far restricted themselves to merely returning their fire. The SG forces hadn't been able to draw them out. It was almost as if there was nobody to draw out.

Jack remembered Johnson's report about the villager's warning not to go near the Shal'tac camp, because it was protected by 'magic'. He was having his own ideas about that 'magic' by now. An automatic guard system that fired energy bolts at anything that moved within its range had to seem like magic to these simple natives. He was almost sure that that was what they were facing here -- and that worried him even more.

"Yeah! Bingo!" A jubilant Major Parker sank back behind his cover. The grenade he had thrown at the assumed position of who -- or whatever was shooting at them from above had resulted in a most satisfying fireball.

"Good job, Parker." Jack gave the SG-8 team leader a grin and a thumbs-up. "Don't let up, kids. We're almost there. Let's concentrate on another one. Anybody got a likely target?"

"Over there, sir." The spot Johnson was pointing to was in direct line with the enemy camp. Connecting the new target in his mind to the one they had just taken out, Jack realized that this had to be a system of advanced perimeter guards, almost certainly automatic.

"Parker, try your luck again!" he ordered. Obliging, the major half rose and quickly lobbed another grenade -- with the same result. A second orange fireball blossomed up into the sky. The men cheered.

"Okay, guys." Jack nodded at his team. He was sure now that what they were facing weren't living, breathing people, but machines only. And machines didn't learn from mistakes. "You know now how it's done. Let's locate those things and take them out."

Some ten minutes later the hills lay in silence again. An occasional shuffle from one of the SG people was all that broke the quiet.

Slowly Jack O'Neill rose. "Looks like we got them, guys." Cautiously he moved out into the open for a few steps. When nothing happened he waved for the others to join him. "All right, let's get down there."

They climbed over and around the last obstacles and saw the Shal'tac camp lying before them in the deep, verdant valley.

Hesitantly they moved on.

At reaching the bottom of the valley Jack had to hide his apprehension. The camp did not only look deserted, it **was** deserted. He knew it.

Where were they? Makepeace? Carter? What had happened?

His stomach was churning with anxiety and frustration. They had come too late. The Shal'tac were gone. And so were their prisoners. Where should he search now?

*****

"Stargate activity, sir!"

After a thorough, but fruitless search of the camp and the area surrounding it, Jack O'Neill had decided to head back to the SGC. Maybe someone there had an idea of what to do next -- something, anything. He was severely out of options.

He knew he was clutching at straws, but he needed something to go on. A sign of where they had gone. **Anything!** The SG teams had found absolutely nothing. The only good thing was that they hadn't found any bodies either. Carter, Harris and Makepeace were still alive.

They had still been some feet away from the ramp when the chevrons had started to glow and the big outer ring of the Stargate began to spin, signaling an incoming transport.

"Take cover, everybody!" Jack roared, throwing himself behind a boulder, his gun trained on the gate. Almost immediately he lowered the weapon again, as he recognized the first of the men who were stepping through the Stargate.

"General Carter?!"

"Colonel O'Neill?"

The surprise on the Tok'ra's features showed clearly that Jacob Carter hadn't expected to be met by the man he was looking for right at the gate. His eyes darkened with dread and he approached O'Neill with a sinking feeling, a question evident on his face.

"Colonel, ... what ...."

"They're gone." Jack interrupted the older man brusquely. "Their camp is empty. No sign of where they might have taken them."

"Them?" Jacob Carter was still too much the military man not to have noticed the plural pronoun immediately.

"Yeah," Jack's shoulders were drooping. Unconsciously he flinched. And he couldn't look the Tok'ra in the eyes. "Makepeace, Harris ... and Sam."

_He is taking this personally,_ Jacob thought. _Somehow O'Neill thinks it is his fault that they are gone, that he didn't get here earlier._

"Jacob, General Carter, ahem ... Sir," Daniel hastily amended at the other's bewildered look. "What are you doing here?"

Daniel cast Jack a worried look. His friend wasn't taking this well. His worry about Sam and the inability to **do** something were slowly leaking through Jack's defenses. Daniel was sure that Jack was suffering from guilt -- again. He was probably castigating himself for having fallen **into** the wormhole, whereas Sam had not been so lucky. Jack would feel responsible, in more ways than the obvious, and he was the kind of man who took his responsibilities very seriously.

"We are bringing you some protection against the Shal'tac weapons." One of the Tok'ra interrupted Daniel's thoughts. He indicated a box he and another Tok'ra were carrying between them.

"Yeah, fat lot of good they're gonna do us," Jack growled scornfully. "Do you see any Shal'tac weapons around anywhere?" His voice was heavy with sarcasm and self-loathing.

"Cut it out, Colonel!" Jacob snapped at the younger man. "You can wallow in self-pity later, if you like, but right now we have something better to do."

"Like what?" Jack barked back.

"Like rescuing my daughter and your men." The former general could still draw on his old military authority if he chose to. "If you don't want to come you can return to the SGC, but **we** are going after them. The choice is yours." With that, he sharply turned around and marched to the DHD.

Jack stared after him open-mouthed, another scathing remark dying still-born on his lips; then his brain finally kicked back in, digesting the information. He snapped his mouth shut and hastened after Jacob, grabbing him by the arm.

"You know where they are?" he demanded harshly, new hope filling his heart.

A mirthless smile appeared on Jacob's face._ It seems he __**does**__ care! - Shut up, Selmak!_

"Let's say Selmak has a pretty good idea of where to go looking for them." He afforded his daughter's team leader an innocent look. "Do you mean you **do** want to come, too?"

Accompanied by Jack's wild curse, Jacob set the co-ordinates to the most recent hide-out of the Tok'ra council, grinning to himself. If what Selmak had told him about the Shal'tac was true, there wasn't any reason to be overly worried right now. Obviously the Shal'tac had decided they had some use for Sam and the two SG people -- so they were still alive, and unharmed. A good merchant didn't abuse his merchandise. Besides, Jacob Carter had a lot of faith in his daughter and her skills. She would be okay. As for freeing her -- **they** had an idea.

He tried to ignore the chortling in his mind.

*****

"You've got to be nuts! There's no way I'm gonna run around in **THIS**!"

"Nobody's forcing you." Jacob was in no mood to cater to the temper tantrums of one unhappy and extremely grumpy Jack O'Neill. The man was only impatient to go -- right, they all were -- but his behavior of the past hours was by now sorely tempting even the most understanding Tok'ra into irrational and violent behavior, let alone a worried father. "You either wear it or you stay behind, it's as simple as that."

"But -- "

"But nothing!" The former general turned to inspect the other members of **his** team. Let O'Neill either put up or shut up.

_Can he do both?_

_Selmak! Don't you start, too. I've enough on my mind already. In case you've forgotten, this is my daughter we've got to save._

_I am sorry, Jacob, but you must concede that O'Neill has reason to be aggrieved. The dress of a Goa'uld household slave is nothing if not ludicrous. Even if it does give us an excellent opportunity to view his pretty legs._

Jacob Carter couldn't help grinning at his symbiont's remark. He knew that, aside from being worried about Sam, Selmak had hit on the main cause for O'Neill's irritation and protests.

The brief, soft, wide leather trousers -- more like a short skirt -- of the 'dress' the colonel was forced to wear as a member of a supposed Goa'uld 'shopping' party ended some five inches above the knees, thus leaving an inordinate amount of Jack's legs exposed. Leather sandals fastened with thin strips around the calves and a thin, billowing, sleeveless shirt, caught at the hips by an elaborate belt, made up the rest of the outfit. A broad, studded metallic collar around his neck finished the ensemble. He looked silly.

It was nothing Jacob would like to be caught dead in either, and he could very well understand that Jack didn't relish appearing like that on the Shal'tac home world. But it was the best scheme they had come up with. A minor Goa'uld (Jacob/Selmak), working for a hopefully unknown System Lord, and his entourage (Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and Pete Johnson), guarded by his own personal Jaffa (Teal'c), coming to purchase some slaves for his lord. The perfect disguise.

The other SG personnel were exchanging uncomfortable looks. They were all clothed in some sort of fancy gear, from wide, ankle-length, concealing cloaks to tight, uniform-like leather garments -- all provided by the Tok'ra -- and none of them were very happy about it either. The only advantage was that they weren't so vocal with their objections. Daniel Jackson even seemed fascinated by the whole thing.

_But then he is highest ranking of your 'subservient slaves' and gets to wear a decent cape to mark his status - and to hide himself._

Jacob caught a giggle in his mind. Selmak was getting way too much pleasure out of the venture.

_Daniel Jackson is an archaeologist. This feels probably more like an exciting field trip to him than a military operation, an opportunity for a fascinating life study,_ the former general sternly thought back at the other presence in his mind. _Now let me talk to them._

"All right, people!"

He rapped a discarded weapon against a container to get everybody's attention.

"Let me resume the plan once more. We arrive on the Shal'tac planet, get to the slave market, locate our people, buy them and leave again. If, for some reason, this should not work, Major Parker and his team, supported by some of my Tok'ra friends -- who have followed us as another party of buyers -- will create a diversion and we will free Sam and the two Marines."

Jacob looked around him. The others looked back at him. They all knew the plan intimately and were prepared to see it through, no matter what obstacles they might find on the way. He didn't have to elaborate.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, why do I have to wear this lousy necklace?" griped Jack O'Neill. He had stopped plucking at the leather shorts in order to get them to cover more of him. Instead he was now fingering the control collar disdainfully, moving his head from side to side, plainly also uncomfortable with the strange device.

"All the Goa'uld household slaves wear these collars," another Tok'ra explained. "They are to ascertain that the slaves can be controlled with the push of a button. They give off a powerful energy shock. And as everybody suffers at the same time, the slaves themselves make sure that no one steps out of line. The signal reaches people for a distance of more than what you call a mile. "

"So nobody even gets the idea to escape?"

Daniel Jackson again had that excited twinkle in his eyes that showed that he was deeply fascinated. At any other time he would probably have been quizzing the Tok'ra by now, to find out more about these household slaves and the way the Goa'uld society was structured.

Despite everything that had happened to him over the years, his thirst for knowledge remained unquenched. Besides, this was just the kind of information that might prove useful some day. Jacob vowed to himself that he'd let the young man ask Selmak about it later -- if she was willing to submit herself to being put through a 'third degree' by an overly enthusiastic anthropologist. But right now they had a more important issue. His daughter needed their help.

An unmistakable, still grouchy voice broke into Jacob's thoughts.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! Since that's all clear now, what are we waiting for? Let's get going, will ya, kids? Who knows what's happenin' out there."

*****

They hadn't expected it to be so crowded.

As soon as Selmak had learned that they had arrived on the Shal'tac home world on a festival day, she had tried to prepare Jacob, but still, the carnival-like atmosphere of the place came as a big surprise.

The main city of the Shal'tac home world was teeming with all kinds of people. Many of them prospective buyers, come especially for the big monthly auctions. Some were looking for kin, just as they were. Others were just bystanders, hoping for a good bargain, or else simply expecting to enjoy the proceedings.

Along every street and scattered around every square were colorful stalls and booths, selling pretty trinkets, food and drinks. Jugglers, musicians and storytellers were performing at every street corner and between the booths. The Shal'tac slave market definitely was a major attraction.

Selmak had apparently come across the slavers more than once in her long life. She knew quite a lot about their ways. Usually the Tok'ra tried to stay away from them, but there had been several occasions when they had had to covertly buy one of their own back.

"Been on these **shopping trips** very often?" Jack O'Neill inquired of the symbiont after Selmak had reluctantly admitted to having first-hand knowledge of the main city.

"As often as necessary," Selmak retorted. "You'd better stay quiet from now on," she added. "This is a society that's built on slavery. A slave who doesn't behave according to his station quickly ends under a sword in the arena. Don't speak unless you're spoken to."

"Arena?" Jack sputtered. "What **arena**? You don't mean some kind of weird circus like in 'Bread and Games', as those old Roman guys used to have? 'Morituri te salutant' and all that crap?"

"That's exactly what she means," Jacob threw in. "And no, Doctor Jackson, you had better hope **not** to get an opportunity for closer study."

Jacob hadn't missed the way Daniel had perked up at the mention of Roman circuses. The young man had to be reminded that this was not one huge, anthropological adventure, but a serious and very dangerous rescue mission.

_Civilians , even well-meaning civilians are nothing but an enormous pain in the ....._ Jacob caught the thought before it went through all the way. Not soon enough, though. _How are you supposed to catch a thought in your own mind, anyway?_ He silently sighed. Apparently not silent enough. Daniel looked slightly miffed and in the back of his mind Jacob caught a faint thread of amusement.

_Some days you just can't win._

Before Jacob could formulate an answer, a young man approached their group.

"Greetings, travelers. My name is Kerrim. May I welcome you to our world? I gather that you, too, have made your way here to participate in the forthcoming auctions?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but then why else would anybody come to the Shal'tac homeworld?

Due to the instructions Selmak and the other Tok'ra had given the SGC people, Daniel took one step forward.

"Greetings." He bowed low. "My Lord Hacten is gracing your world with his presence." He bowed again in Jacob's direction. "He has come to let his eye roam over the merchandise that you have to offer, and if something should be to his liking, we will purchase it."

Selmak chose this moment to let her presence be known and the young man's eyes widened at the sight of Jacob's glowing eyes. Startled, he bowed, too. "We are honored, m-my lord," he stammered. This was apparently the first Goa'uld he had met, but he quickly recovered his composure.

"Oh, Lord Hacten, I am sorry, but unfortunately, the first of the auctions won't begin for some hours yet, not until way after the mid-day meal. Please, allow me to offer you the hospitality of my mother's house for the time. She will be most honored by the presence of a noble guest like you."

Another unforeseen complication, but Jacob couldn't think of a plausible reason why they should not accept the invitation. Neither could Selmak. _Accept, but be careful. Remember to play the high-and-mighty Goa'uld lord, _was all she thought.

Feeling slightly stupid, Jacob inclined his head. Daniel took the hint and bowed to the young man. "My Lord Hacten accepts with gratitude."

"If you would follow me." Kerrim nodded and turned to lead the way.

_Selmak, you'd better stay in control. I'm not sure I can pull off the Goa'uld lord part convincingly._ Jacob had long since come to trust Selmak completely. He knew that with the exception of a real emergency, she'd never take over without his permission.

All around them the other visitors obviously either knew or had heard about the delay as well. Some were following Shal'tac guides to guest quarters and others simply found a place to settle down and wait. Street vendors and guest houses would make a fair amount of coin today. Which might even be the reason behind the opportune timing -- after all, the Shal'tac were merchants first and foremost.

*****

_These guys are supposed to be merchants. A good merchant takes care not to damage his merchandise._ That was the main thought that was coursing through Robert Makepeace's mind. _Carter should be safe._

He could only hope his assessment was right.

When he had regained consciousness, he had found himself blinking blearily at a set of different, totally unfamiliar surroundings. Finally his vision had cleared and he'd surveyed what he could see from his prone position. To his practiced eyes the place looked a lot like an old-fashioned dungeon -- by Earth standards.

Groaning, Makepeace had rolled onto his side, with every intention of getting up from the rock hard floor -- only to find himself flopping back unceremoniously when his nerve ends started screaming a painful message at him. Gulping in deep breaths, the Marine waited until his pounding heart had slowed down again and the pain was only a distant echo.

He decided to give it a second try. Cautiously he attempted a half-upright position, holding his still-aching head -- this time there had been no accommodating lap to function as a cushion. In fact this time there had been no Carter at all.

Harris was there beside him, going through the same painful process of waking up, but Carter was suspiciously absent. Slowly inspecting their new prison, he realized with something like relief that none of the women were there. This obviously had to be the men's section. His relief was only short-lived, though, as he remembered the words of the masked Shal'tac -- that he was going to **test** Carter himself.

_She's a soldier, she should be okay._ Makepeace tried to ignore the persistent little voice in the background of his mind that kept whispering, _But she's also a woman, a very beautiful woman -- and it was pretty obvious what kind of a __**test**__ the bastard had in mind._

"Colonel Makepeace?" Harris' whispered question broke into his musings. With an audible wince Makepeace turned onto his elbow and looked at the sergeant. Harris was lying on his back, his face screwed up with the effort of speaking. Only his head had managed to make the turn to the side.

"Where's ... Major Carter ... sir?"

"Don't know, Harris. She isn't here. None of the women are."

"Sir!"

Makepeace didn't have to be a mind reader to know what was going through Harris' mind. After all, he had been harboring the same thoughts not a minute earlier.

"Yeah, I know, but there's nothing we can do about it right now. Let's just hope that Carter is okay. She's got Air Force training. I'm sure she can hold her own."

He didn't know whether his words had convinced the sergeant; they certainly hadn't done anything to dissolve the lump that still occupied a large part of his own stomach. Air Force training or not, Carter was alone somewhere facing God-knew what -- or who.

Makepeace fell back again, moaning, to endure another wave of agony. Where was that old bitch Darina with her jug now? The stuff had tasted vile, but it had helped.

And where the hell was Carter?

*****

"I don't know how much longer I can stand this goddamned charade," Jack O'Neill grumbled softly to himself. Not softly enough apparently. Johnson of SG-3 sent him a quick warning glance and the almost imperceptible twitching of Teal'c's shoulders in front of him were sign enough that he, too, had overheard the muttered remark.

Jack and Pete Johnson were trying to melt into the shadows of the brightly decorated walls of the banquet hall. There was no other word for it. At least Jack didn't know any other for a place like this. It was a large, brightly decorated, square room, almost entirely filled with a big, heavy table that was laden with food and wine.

Jacob -- ahem, '**Lord Hacten**' -- was seated among about a dozen other guests of Kerrim's mother, one Lady Darina. She seemed to be a very high-ranking member of the Shal'tac leading circle. She had promised all of her guests a seat in her own personal auction box and also - if they desired it - a space in her cubicle at the arena. From her hints the arena was going to be the site of a very special and spectacular event later on. Something about a trio of new fighters the lady had acquired and was going to test before offering them up for sale.

Jack couldn't care less. Together with a bunch of slaves belonging to the other participants of the feast, he and Johnson had been relegated to the walls as soon as they had entered the room. Following Selmak's earlier instructions, they stayed put, behaving as befitted their position. Slaves had to stay invisible.

Daniel was hovering at Jacob's elbow. As his personal servant he seemed to be allowed to. And Teal'c had simply taken up a position behind his supposed lord

and master, his protective stance unmistakable and undisputed.

Now most of the meal seemed to be over and the talk was turning to the more serious business matters. The auction had to be beginning soon.

It couldn't be soon enough for Jack. He wanted to get Carter, Makepeace and Harris and be gone. This place gave him the creeps.

Suddenly his attention was caught by the conversation right in front of him.

"Lord Hacten," the Lady Darina was graciously addressing her most important guest. "My son informed me that you might be interested in a purchase or two. May I inquire what exactly it is that you are looking for?"

The deep resounding voice of the Tok'ra indicated that Selmak was still directing Jacob's actions. From what Jack had seen and heard so far, she was doing a good job of convincing those present that Sam's father was indeed what he claimed to be -- a minor Goa'uld out to buy a couple of slaves for his household or for that of his overlord.

"Lady, our needs and wishes are many. We will have to see the quality of what you can offer and then we will choose."

The haughty voice elicited quickly hushed shudders from several of the other guests, but not from Darina. Her cool smile clearly attested that she wasn't impressed, let alone intimidated in the slightest.

"I am sure that we will be able to fulfill those needs. The Shal'tac have seldom failed to do so. You will surely find what you are searching for."

In a contest of haughtiness Darina would be a match even for Selmak.

Unobtrusively, Jack tried to shift from one foot to the other. He wasn't allowed to move or to speak, but he could at least **think**.

_Now could we please end this farce and get to the important part? We simply want to bid some of our hard-earned cash for a couple of our friends and then you'll be rid of us again. No sweat, just business, lady. So, cut the crap and forget about sweet-talking the customers --- just let the damn' show begin._

Jack had to forcibly rein in his temper. If he let his impatience surface, hell, if he started twitching and acted out of character, he might give everything away. That would not do. But all this useless waiting around was getting to him. He would need an outlet for his frustrations soon. He had to **do** something.

Just then a liveried slave entered the room and went straight to Darina's side. He whispered something in her ear and they could all see a broad, satisfied smile flash over her face.

Still smiling, she stood up and announced in a tone that was bordering on regal, "My friends and honored guests, may I ask you to step outside with me? The auction is about to begin."

_Hallelujah! ... __**Now**__ we're finally getting somewhere. ... Hang on, Carter, won't be long now. We're almost there._

*****

Two hours later, and they still weren't any closer to reaching their objective. Dozens of victims of the Shal'tac slave raids had been paraded before them, all of them remarkably good-looking and incredibly young, but there was not a single sign of Sam or the two Marines.

To keep up appearances, Selmak had even had Jacob bid a couple of times and consequently he now was the proud owner of two nubile 'pleasure' girls and one frightened teenage boy, who looked ready to drop dead if anybody so much as looked at him askance. At the moment they were still in the slave pens, until Jacob would send someone to collect them -- and pay the agreed price. Jacob vowed to himself that he'd take them with him and give them their freedom back.

Jacob had to suppress a sigh. Somehow their plan had sounded a lot easier than the execution was now turning out to be.

He ought to have known better. Things were seldom easy where his daughter was concerned. She used to surprise him big time on a regular basis.

He only had to think of their meeting in Washington, when he had been so sure he'd done the right thing by getting her a place in the NASA space program. She had declined, without giving him a reason, and he had been angry -- understandably so, from his point of view.

To go into space had been the dream of her life and he had pulled every string he could, had called in a lot of favors to secure this chance for her. With his cancer so far advanced, he had wanted to see her happy in her job, at least. It had been the last -- and probably the only -- thing that had been in his power to do for her -- or so he had thought.

Little had he known that she had already made her dream come true -- or the form it had taken on. Stargate travel -- Sam had found a way into space that **he** would never have envisioned even in his wildest dreams. She had turned her dreams into reality in a way that Jacob could only admire. He was so very proud of her.

But where was she?

And where the hell had that fool O'Neill disappeared to?

Jacob had been well aware that the colonel had used the cover of the masses around the auction yard to unobtrusively slip away from the proceedings some time ago. He could only hope that nobody else had noticed, and that O'Neill didn't ruin everything with some well-meant, but foolish enterprise.

_Oh, Sam, honey, where are you?_

*****

Buying and selling people -- like cattle -- it was degrading, disgusting! Why didn't somebody do something against this despicable kind of 'trade'?

Observing the tight huddles of frightened future 'slave girls' all around her, Sam felt a deep rage blossom inside her.

Together with about two dozen other, mostly very much younger women, many nothing more than mere children, she had woken up to the now almost familiar pain that any kind of weapon of the Shal'tac seemed to leave behind. A few of the other girls had apparently come to some time ago and were now slowly moving among their suffering sisters, trying to help. One of them had offered Sam the equally familiar jug, filled with the same horrible-tasting concoction. But it worked its magic as it had done before. The pain was soon gone.

Compared to the tent on P7X-935 their present prison was positively lush -- tasteful, pale silk hangings covering walls and flanking windows, big, fluffy velvet cushions scattered everywhere, and even -- Sam almost did a double-take on that one -- a tinkling water fountain in the middle of the room. She had only seen settings like these in old movies. It looked like a harem, down to the decoratively barred windows and the large, elaborate brass doors. The thought conjured up an image that came accompanied with a queasy feeling deep down in the pit of her stomach. What had that masked guy in the tent said about **testing**?

As if on cue, the doors opened. Accompanied by two very obvious guards, a tall man stepped in. Cool eyes surveyed the cowering, frightened women in front of him, until they found Sam. A small, cruel smile appeared on his face when she returned his gaze fearlessly. The sight of her defiant posture seemed to be what he had been expecting, even hoping for. So it didn't come as a surprise to her when he finally spoke and she recognized the voice as that of the masked man from the tent. An elegantly manicured hand pointed at her.

"I will ... **talk** ... to this one. Have her brought to my rooms." On his way out he turned around again and issued one last order. "But first take those disgusting clothes off her."

*****

With everybody around him so intent on the goddamned auction, it hadn't been difficult for Jack to slip away unobserved. No one took any notice of yet another slave away on an errand for his master.

Now he was cautiously making his way through a part of the buildings around the

'arena/auction yard' that looked suspiciously like some kind of a prison. Not that there were many guards -- in fact, Jack had only had to dodge one pair of not very observant watchmen so far. The Shal'tac evidently felt very safe in their capitol city, especially as most of them were apparently out there at the auctions, making money by selling people. But the walls of the corridors leading off to the left and to the right of the dark alcove that he was hiding in right now were interspersed with heavy doors -- doors which sported curious, high-tech locks.

Like everything he'd seen in the whole city, this was proof of the strange mixture of the very old and the super modern that these people seemed to favor. The Shal'tac didn't flaunt their technology, but it was there.

Some judicious and very careful questioning of a few other slaves had rendered the information that this was where the Shal'tac were most certainly holding their prisoners.

If they were right, then this was the place he needed to be. Carter, Makepeace and Harris had to be here somewhere. The only question was, how could he find them?

_Take the easy way,_ his mind said. _Ask._

Pondering the idea a bit from the dubious safety of his momentary sanctuary, Jack decided that it sounded like good advice, at least better than doing a door-by-door search. Not that he would have any idea how to get past those locks anyway -- Carter was the mechanical wizard of his team.

_Okay! Now where to go for a little friendly conversation? There are some questions I'd like the answers to._

Easier said than done. Over the years, avoiding the guards and watchmen that seemed to abound on most of the planets they visited had become second nature to Jack, but where was one of the obnoxious fools when you needed him?

Muted voices on his left signaled the eminent arrival of a possible source of information. Jack flattened himself against the wall, trying to disappear still more into the shadows.

_Uh, uh! Shit! Two guys! Big, tough, quarterback-type guys! Of the kind any sane man would normally try to stay away from at all costs._

They were almost upon him and Jack gave himself a mental shove, preparing to tackle them one by one, starting with the one closer to him.

A low, vicious kick sent bozo number one slumping against the far wall, moaning, out of the game for the moment. Now Jack could deal with target number two undisturbed.

Finally all that special ops training was paying off -- other people would probably call it fighting dirty, but what the heck, anything that worked. A few well-placed kicks, chops and blows, and a hard encounter of head-with-wall sent his surprised and unresisting opponent off into dreamland. He'd be no further problem for a long time.

It hadn't even taken a minute.

Swiftly Jack turned his attention to the remaining guard. Dazed, pain-filled eyes looked up at him uncomprehendingly, then the gaze shifted to the long, extremely mean-looking knife that Jack was about to appropriate from his fallen adversary. The next second the weapon was firmly pressed against the other man's throat. His eyes bulged.

"Okay, big guy! I have a question and I'd like the answer to it fast -- **fast**, if you get my meaning." A none-too-gentle flexing of the hand that held the knife backed the statement. "One of your fancy slave hunting teams brought back three strangers, two men and a woman -- older than those you normally take. They're all wearing the same kind of uniform. Dark, mottled green." At least he hoped they were still wearing their BDUs.

"Well, sonny, where are they?" When the requested answer wasn't immediately forthcoming, Jack decided he needed to impress his urgency on the guy. He inched the knife closer, nicking his skin slightly. At once a small trail of blood appeared, trickling down into the man's shirt. It brought the desired effect.

"Third door ..." another increase of pressure on the knife served to hasten the rest of the info, "... to the right."

"Well, not that I don't trust your word, my friend, but let's just go there together and see what we'll see, huh?"

Careful not to lose his advantage, Jack dragged his still-befuddled prisoner to his feet with one arm, moved the knife from the guy's throat to his back, piercing shirt and skin enough to be felt, and set off with him in the afore-mentioned direction.

"One, two and number three. Now what's the prize behind door number three?"

Confused, the guard stumbled to a halt in front of the indicated door and blinked at him, but Jack wasn't about to give him the time to get any ideas. Time was his prime enemy, and the big guy had already been submissive far too long for his comfort.

"Open it up!"

When his prisoner hesitated, Jack gave him another incentive to obey. Now blood started to seep through the shirt on the guy's back. He flinched and groped for a strange device that hung from his belt.

"Ah, ah! Careful what you do, right?"

Slowly the Shal'tac removed the device from its fastenings at his belt and held it against the lock. He pressed some of the indentations on the gadget in an obviously set order. With a soft click the door sprang open.

"After you, my friend!"

Unceremoniously, Jack shoved his prisoner through the small slit that had appeared between the wall and the door. After a hasty glance around to ascertain that all was still quiet in the corridor, he followed him into the cell.

Once inside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light.

Before he could really make out anything of his surroundings, a fist connected first with the side of his head -- hard -- and then with his kidneys -- just as hard. The bastard had one hell of a punch. Excruciating pain shot through Jack. He went down to his knees. His hand -- the one holding the knife -- was painfully wrenched to the side, back and up, and he was quickly and unceremoniously divested of the weapon.

_Shit!_

*****

"Sir, shouldn't we have heard from them by now?"

"Major, you heard Jacob Carter's message that they were following the Shal'tac and their prisoners to their home world. He also said that it might take some time."

General Hammond spared his Pentagon liaison a brief glance -- a brief, **cold** glance. Major Davis knew he wasn't one of the general's favorite people right now.

"How long do you intend to wait, sir?"

Davis' eyes were locked on the general. For once, Hammond wasn't pacing. There wasn't much use in trying to wear a path into the floor of the control room. It wouldn't bring his people back one iota earlier.

Ever since a Tok'ra had brought Jacob Carter's message, the SGC was waiting. Hammond ought to be used to it by now, but waiting had clearly never been one of his favorite activities, and it probably never would. The general was on edge, worried, impatient, but he was not pacing.

"We'll wait as long as it takes."

The general's answer made the younger officer take a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. Again, Davis would have to be the one to remind the general that the well-being of his teams wasn't the prime objective of the SGC - the safety of Earth was.

Davis knew his next remark would not be well received.

"Sir, you must realize that there is a very high probability that General Carter's plan didn't work, and that the Shal'tac caught him and the other SG teams as well."

Davis decided to ignore the sinister glares that were converging on him from several directions. It seemed he was nobody's favorite at the moment. He didn't really give a damn.

"General! Sir! It has been almost twenty-four hours since General Carter's last message, almost two days since Major Carter disappeared. A lot can have happened in that time."

General Hammond's face clearly said that he didn't want to be reminded of that possibility, but Davis saw it as his duty to do so. Softly he added, "Under torture everybody talks sooner or later. We can't risk anybody using their codes to attack Earth."

When this still did not bring the desired result, Davis chose to be more explicit.

"Sir, the standard rule is that the iris codes of any team that's missing for more than 48 hours are locked out of the computers. We have to think about doing just that."

"I know the rules, Major!" Another icy glare settled on Davis. The temperature in the whole control room had just dropped to sub-zero. "**I** set those rules up."

"Yes, sir, I know. But --" Davis never got the chance to finish his objection.

"We'll wait. They are not MIA, they are on a mission that takes longer than usual. This is **not** the standard recon mission of an SGC team, where the rules would apply. This is a rescue operation, Major. Things like that take time."

His features set into a determined scowl, General Hammond turned his back on the younger officer, resuming his waiting.

Reluctantly, Major Davis dropped the matter -- for the moment.

*****

"Beautiful."

A hand grabbed her face, turning it this way and that, overcoming her attempts to resist with an increase of force. Cold eyes surveyed her once again.

"Yeees, I knew you would look marvelous, once decently clothed."

"Unfortunately, our conceptions of decent clothing seem to differ considerably."

Sam tried to keep her voice steady. She wouldn't let that Shal'tac bastard see how apprehensive she really felt. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of witnessing any weakness. And she would most certainly ignore the appreciative, even proprietary glances he was throwing at what he had called **decent** clothing. Low-cut front and back -- **very** low cut -- figure-hugging, thin, almost transparent silk gowns didn't meet her standards of decent in any way.

A low, throaty laugh greeted her statement.

"Not only beautiful, but also insolent. A combination that is very appealing to me."

The voice came from behind her. Sam tried to turn, but her movement was impeded by the chains that not only bound her hands, but were also fastened to a pair of rings which hung from one of the posts of the big bed that dominated the room.

It was another lavishly decorated room. Dark red hangings framed the barred windows, hangings and sheets of the same dark red covered the canopied bed. The room itself wasn't big. Lots of candles as well as some strange, soft, artificial light let her see its furniture clearly. There was nothing but a comfortable-looking stuffed chair, a small table on which an assortment of elegant bottles and glasses resided, a big ornate wooden chest -- and the bed.

A big, canopied, four-poster bed. Each of the four posts sported a set of those rings.

Sam tried not to dwell on the implications.

"Oh yes, immensely appealing."

He was close behind her. His breath caressed her bare neck. One of his hands touched her hip through the thin silk, moved upwards, following the curve of her body.

Instinctively Sam lashed out with her right foot. All she connected with was empty air.

Amused laughter commented her fruitless demonstration of resistance.

"It seems Darina was right. You **are** a little warrior, aren't you?"

He moved around her. His eyes were ravishing her.

Sam knew that neither the soft light nor the material of her 'dress' would hide anything from his view. She might as well be standing before him naked.

"This is one testing that is going to be **very** interesting indeed."

The malicious smile playing around his lips did nothing to assuage Sam's misgivings. It took all her considerable willpower to suppress a shudder.

She had a pretty good idea of what he meant by that statement.

"Now let's see about that fighting spirit."

*****

"Argh!"

"Oh, stop it, will you?"

"Dammit, Makepeace, did you have to hit me so hard? Couldn't you have **looked** first whose head you were gonna take off? ... Argh!"

"I told you I was sorry, O'Neill. ... Several times already." The Marine glared down on his Air Force counterpart.

Jack O'Neill sat slumped on the floor of the cell, dividing his attention between rubbing the bump on his obviously aching head and cautiously flexing his maltreated right shoulder and arm. Being wrenched back with extreme force was nothing said shoulder had reacted to very well.

Alternating between these two actions, he still found the time to glower back at Makepeace. "Yeah, so you have. But you don't really believe that that does anything to help the pain, do ya?."

"Ahem, sirs." Sergeant Harris considered it high time to put a stop to his superiors' verbal fencing. "What am I to do with this guy?"

Both men instantly switched their gazes to him and to the downed guard he was practically sitting on.

"Is he still out of it?" Makepeace inquired, frowning.

"Yes, sir. I believe he is." Harris glanced down at his captive. "At least he hasn't twitched once in all the time." His face took on an apologetic expression. "I may have hit him a bit hard."

"Must be a Marine thing." Finding himself the target of both Marines' stares, Jack finally relented. "Oh, well, you were probably right. How were you to know who was gonna come waltzing in through that door? Might have been your only shot at getting outta here."

He tried to shrug, forgetting about his aching shoulder, but he received a reminder right away. Wincing slightly, he grudgingly added, "I'd have probably done the same. There's always **later** to ask any questions."

"Yeah! Right, O'Neill." Makepeace tacitly accepted the veiled apology. "Now about that guy... any particular plans you had for him?"

"Tie him up, Harris," O'Neill ordered curtly. "And while you're at it, out there in the corridor there ought to be another one. One of you might get him inside here as well and let him have a taste of the same." A pointed look at Makepeace accompanied the suggestion.

With an exasperated sigh the Marine took the hint and slipped through the still partially open door, while Harris started to take the belt off his prisoner -- long, flexible leather belts were great for tying up people.

It gave O'Neill the time to finally take a closer look at the inside of the small cell. About three by three meters, no windows, very dim artificial light, a curious grid with several long, small slits at the top of one wall -- air-conditioning? -- no furniture apart from two uncomfortable-looking bunks, Harris and his 'cushion', Makepeace, who dragged a still-unconscious bozo inside by his feet, and -- no Carter!

"Where's Carter?"

The harsh question was met with silence.

"Well? ... Where is she? She was with you, wasn't she?" O'Neill's rough voice betrayed his apprehension.

"Yeah, she was ... at first ... on P7X-935." Makepeace hesitated. His own worries about the blond major weren't all that far from the surface of his thoughts.

He swallowed and continued. "We were together in some kind of a tent. Then those Shal'tac bastards took us out again with ... an energy bomb, I suppose you could call it. When we came to again, she was gone."

"Whaddaya mean, gone?"

"We woke up in some big dungeon with about two or three dozen others, men only."

Makepeace paused for a moment to check on the strength of the bindings he had put on guard number one. The belt was tightly wound around his wrists. To secure his legs Makepeace had followed Harris' example, dragging the guy's trousers down over his feet and tying them around his ankles. When he was finished he looked up at O'Neill again.

"Later we were brought here. Apparently we're not meant for the regular slave market. We're to be some sort of prize gladiators, out to hack some poor unsuspecting dumb ass to pieces for our friends' amusement. There's gonna be a test fight soon." Heavy irony colored his words.

"So you really have no idea where she is?"

"Nope."

"Damn!"

*****

The auction finally appeared to be over, and still no sign of his daughter and her two comrades.

Jacob let his gaze roam around the wide arena. First, for the auction, they had occupied a luxurious section of the combined auction yard/combat area that was close to the floor, so they could view the 'merchandise' better.

Now they had moved to an equally plush, sequestered, private compartment in the upper rows of the structure, directly above the combat area. The view over the arena was much better from here, Darina had assured them. Most of the other spectators/buyers were still sitting tight. The stands even seemed to be filling up.

_What's going on, Selmak?_

_I don't know. It may have to do with the special event Darina was mentioning after lunch. Let me question her on it._

That proved to be unnecessary.

With a bright smile Darina stood up and addressed the audience. Her voice was amplified by hidden microphones, so it could be heard all through the arena.

"My friends! Esteemed visitors! I have promised you a special treat for this festival day. On my last journey I managed to acquire some promising new fighters for the arena."

Hushed murmurs broke out all around them. Apparently this didn't happen very often.

_The Shal'tac usually kill most of those who oppose them. There are no fighters left to bring back._

_What do you think, Selmak, is she talking about Sam and the Marines?_

_Maybe. Let's just hope she is. Then we'll finally know where they are._

Still smiling, Darina continued. "These fighters will appear before you as a team. A team consisting of two men and a woman."

The crowd's surprise soared. This had to be a new and obviously extremely exciting combination. Conversation among those assembled buzzed.

For Jacob, Darina's words lifted a boulder off his heart. _Sam! She's __**got**__ to be talking about Sam!_

_Probably._

_Who else could it be?_

_We'll find out soon enough._

_Pessimist._

Silence.

Jacob turned his attention back to Darina's words.

"... be fighting a group of our best combatants. These three people are from a race we have not encountered previously. So, I am sure they will provide us with some of the best entertainment. If they prove their worth in the arena today, I will accept your bids after the fight."

With this last announcement, Darina resumed her seat.

He had missed a part of her statement, Jacob worriedly noticed.

_Don't panic! She has just ordered some guards to go fetch her new prize fighters, that's all._ Selmak informed him dryly. _They ought be back soon._

_Good!_

*****

"Okay, Makepeace, now I know how you got here and you know how I got here. But we still don't have a clue where Carter is."

"Somewhere around, obviously. This Darina was talking about presenting us as a fighting **trio**. That means all three of us. So Carter ought to turn up soon."

"Soon, yeah! But it's what's happening to her **now** that's bothering me."

The inscrutable mask that fell over Makepeace's face showed Jack that the Marine was well aware of his fears, that he probably shared them.

Makepeace and Harris had taken turns in giving Jack the short version of what had happened to them and what they had learned from Sam Carter. Jack had reciprocated with his brief account of what had transpired to him and the SG teams the general had sent out as reinforcements. He'd also told them of the presence of the Tok'ra and what they knew about the Shal'tac weapons and their effects.

His tale had left two very worried Marines in its wake.

So three or, with a lot of luck, four was the magical number. After that, the next shot that a Shal'tac aimed at one of them and that hit, would turn any of them into a human bonfire.

Great.

At the moment the countdown stood at two -- at least... for each of them. The next direct hit might even be the last one.

Wonderful.

"No need to look so glum, guys; according to our snake friends these things are supposed to help." With those words Jack handed Makepeace and Harris one of the small Tok'ra shield generators each.

Makepeace weighed the device in his hands, glancing at it with unmasked doubt. "Didn't you say they only **hope** it works?"

"Ah, let's think positive. It works!"

"If you say so."

Makepeace and Harris exchanged a look -- they were not happy. Nevertheless, they carefully hid they generators under their clothes. They'd probably find out sooner or later if the things worked or not. For now, they still needed to get away from here -- not just as soon as possible, but right away.

Which brought them back to Carter.

Who was still missing.

Who might at this moment be facing a **test** at the hands of a probably sadistic, male Shal'tac. None of the men harbored any delusions as to the nature of that test.

"I'm going!"

"What?"

"Come on, Makepeace! Someone has to go looking for Carter. We can't just hope for a miracle and meanwhile leave her ... wherever she might be."

O'Neill didn't want to voice his fears. Actually saying it aloud might make the unthinkable happen. _Now where did he get that funny notion from? Something Daniel had said to him once?_ He shrugged the thought off again and stood up.

Makepeace wasn't convinced of the wisdom of O'Neill's idea. "And **where** do you plan to go looking?"

"Oh, why not ask one of our two guests for directions?"

As one they all three turned to the two bound and gagged parcels on the floor of the cell.

"Not a bad idea." Makepeace conceded. "Harris ...!"

But his order wasn't necessary. Harris was already bending down and taking the gag off one their former guards. It was Jack's talkative friend.

"Okay, buddy, one more question ... and you'll be rid of me. I promise." With a distinctly false smile, Jack squatted down next to the scowling guard, pointedly ignoring the anger his victim was so evidently displaying.

"Remember I asked you about my friends earlier? Two men and a woman, I said, right? Now let's look around us and what do we see? Two men. That's fine, really fine. There's just one thing that's missing... and here comes the question. **Where's ... the woman?**"

Jack looked at their captive expectantly.

All he got was a curse in a language he didn't understand and a dark glare.

"Ah, come on! Be nice! Talk to me!" To impress the seriousness of the situation to their as yet unwilling guide, Jack hefted the knife again. A couple of swings executed directly above and dangerously close to the man's quivering nose and widening eyes, a threatening look to the lower parts of his anatomy and it didn't even take Makepeace's nasty remark of "What does this guy need his reproductive organ for anyway?" to hasten the information O'Neill had asked for.

"She's with Treylaan."

"Who's that? Where do I find them?"

"He's one of the Leading Twelve. He wanted to test the woman. He had her brought to his rooms."

The breathless answer caused different reactions from the three SGC men.

"Damn! I knew it. This Treylaan's got to be the same masked bastard we saw on P7X-935."

"Sir, we've got to do something to help Major Carter!"

"Test her, huh?" The last was delivered in a dangerously cold voice that sent additional shivers of dread over the other men. To have their worst fears confirmed like this did nothing to diminish them. "Where are his rooms?"

The guard had recognized the danger as well and stuttered out a few directions.

"I hope -- for your sake -- that I'll find the way." _And that nothing has happened to her. _Jack O'Neill didn't say it aloud, but each of the men in the cell heard the words as clearly as if he'd shouted them.

"Plug him again, Harris!"

Tucking the strange door-opener into a pocket of his leather shorts and fastening the knife to his belt, Jack rose and moved up to the door. He didn't know enough about the Shal'tac energy weapons to use them, so he would stay away from them.

Nobody had to ask him where he was going, but when Makepeace stepped up to his side and said, "Let's go!" Jack's outstretched hand intercepted him. "You'd better stay here."

"**What?"**

"Dammit, Makepeace! Think!" Jack's voice was low, but intense. The taut, whiplash posture of his body betrayed the amount of tension the Air Force colonel was being subjected to.

"When those guards are missed -- and they **will** be missed soon -- someone will come looking for them. And what do you think they'll do when they find you two gone and these thugs in your place?"

O'Neill's brown eyes bored into the Marine's blue ones.

Makepeace licked his lips. Then he heaved a deep sigh and shook his head resignedly. "They'll sound the alarm."

"Yeah!"

"So?"

"So, you'll stay here, give them your best rendition of an innocent Spartacus substitute, and hide our friends under your bunks."

Both men turned to look at the low, bench-like structures.

"If you let the blankets hang down over the side to the floor, it might even fool them. As for everything else -- you know what to do."

Noting the Marine's still doubtful look, Jack decided not to waste any more time with useless arguments. He swiftly slid through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"O'Neill! What do you think you're doing? ... Open the door!"

"Sorry, Robert! Gotta go. See you later!"

"Jack!"

No answer.

"Shit, O'Neill! I'll get you for this. I swear, I will. The next time you need rescuing you can rot in hell, for all I care."

Makepeace slammed his hand against the door. He wasn't surprised when only silence echoed back at him.

Jack O'Neill was already gone to get his missing team member.

The two Marines could only wait for what would come ... and hope that O'Neill wasn't too late to save Carter.

"Harris, stow those ugly thugs away, will ya?"

*****

"I believe Daniel Jackson has discovered something important." The deep voice of the Jaffa rumbled softly, unheard by anybody but Jacob/Selmak. "He appears to be extremely agitated."

Teal'c was right, as usual. It was very seldom that something escaped the Jaffa's attention.

A curt movement of Jacob's hand brought the young man in question to his side.

Daniel afforded Teal'c an all but unnoticeable smile, before he solicitously bent down to his 'master', to ostensibly take care of his needs.

"Another drink," Jacob/Selmak ordered brusquely.

With what he hoped would look like a gracious nod, Daniel complied. From a table set up for the benefits of Darina's guests he fetched a tall, frosty glass containing some unknown, but obviously tasty liquid. Jacob had already consumed several of them, since Selmak had declared the brew harmless. Daniel also offered him a plate with a selection of finger foods.

"What is it?" Jacob mumbled around the first swallow of the cool and surprisingly refreshing drink.

In the meantime Teal'c had unobtrusively moved to the side, so the bulk of his body would act as a visual shield between the two men and the rest of the people in Darina's elegant box.

Daniel inched closer to the Tok'ra's ear and whispered his news.

The only sign that Jacob Carter had understood his breathed words was a convulsive tightening of the hand that held the glass. It was a small wonder it didn't break. Daniel didn't know it, but it had taken all of Selmak's not inconsiderable power over Jacob to prevent a more traitorous reaction.

The general's apparent shock hadn't gone unnoticed by Teal'c. Softly, like a gentle breeze, words of comfort reached the older man.

"Whatever it is, Jacob Carter, be assured we will overcome it together."

Daniel raised his head slightly to look at the Jaffa. Not a muscle moved in the broad face; brown eyes seemed to survey the strange world around him and the two men in front of him dispassionately. The younger man could only marvel at how anybody could look so impassive and uncaring outwardly and yet be such a staunch and compassionate friend on the inside.

Teal'c was right, the operative word was **together**. Together, they would also deal with this new obstacle.

*****

A sudden increase in the murmuring around the arena broke their tension. Jacob, Teal'c and Daniel immediately switched their eyes to the sand-covered floor of the big bowl. The other problem would have to wait.

Being led into the combat area were two men wearing the familiar green uniforms of the SGC -- Makepeace and Harris.

Two down, one to go.

Daniel had to suppress a grin. He was beginning to sound like Jack. Then the impact of what he had thought sank in and he quickly sobered again. There was no sign of Sam.

Looking closer at the two men of SG-3, Daniel noticed that they didn't seem to be overly happy. They didn't show any signs of having been maltreated -- okay, someone might argue that being hung with heavy chains wouldn't exactly equal a picnic, but there were no apparent bruises or injuries. Damaging valuable stock needlessly wouldn't concur with the merchant mentality of the Shal'tac, Daniel rationalized.

But something was definitely wrong. Did they know where Sam was? They **had** to. And where was Jack? Why wasn't he back yet? Thankfully his absence hadn't been noted -- yet.

With renewed concern Daniel saw that Darina had stood up again. There was a deep frown on her forehead. She seemed displeased. Brusquely she motioned to one of the guards who were accompanying the two Marines.

The man's rapid appearance at the entrance to the box was evidence of the woman's status -- not that Daniel had needed additional proof. What he had overheard and then found out through a few well-placed questions had given him enough information on their hostess.

She was one of the Leading Twelve, a kind of council that managed the overall affairs of the Shal'tac -- mainly the acquisition and subsequent sale of human captives.

Darina was one of the few members of this council who went out with the hunting parties herself. She evidently took a perverse sort of entertainment from these trips to other worlds. She was even rumored to masquerade as a native once they arrived at their destination and so to lure the unsuspecting local youngsters into the waiting Shal'tac snares.

Unlike most of the Shal'tac, who habitually hid their faces off-world, Darina never wore one of the elaborate masks. She obviously didn't fear retaliation or any other kind of trouble from one of her prisoners, should they recognize her as their captor. Her reasoning was that they would hate her anyway once they knew who she was. Simply belonging to the feared Shal'tac had to be enough protection. Nobody would be fool enough to oppose one of the hunters.

Boy, would she be in for a surprise!

Bending his attention back to the conversation, he strained to find out more, but he could overhear only snatches, words like "female", "Treylaan", "finished" and "immediately". The last had been a curt order to which the guard bowed obediently, before leaving at a run again.

"Female" -- Sam? It just had to be.

"Treylaan" -- no idea, maybe another Shal'tac? Probably.

"Finished" -- Sam and this unknown Shal'tac, together? And they had finished ... what?

Daniel unconsciously bit his lip.

"Immediately" was the only part that was pretty clear ... the guard was supposed to fetch Sam - right away. After all, Darina had promised the crowds a fight between the Shal'tac gladiators and a new **trio**. With Makepeace and Harris present, that only left the missing Sam as the expected female member of the threesome.

Darina's next words, addressed to the audience and the prospective buyers of her new fighters, confirmed part of his deductions. "Honored friends, these are, as you can see, two of my new slaves. They are strong, and also cunning and skilled fighters. They will now choose their weapons while we wait for the female to be brought to us. She will arrive soon and then the fighting will commence."

As if her words had been a sign, the arena below them began to fill up. In single file, six men entered. Clad in leather, heads covered by ornate helmets, bare chests and arms protected by shining chain-mail or special leather armor, they were carrying an assortment of barbaric weapons. They walked up to the stands, bowed before the spectators, saluted their Shal'tac lords, and turned around to face Makepeace and Harris.

At the same time the two Marines were being freed from the chains that bound their hands and feet. The next part of what was obviously a well known ceremony brought both men before several tables that had been carried in. Each of them sported a selection of the same kind of old-fashioned weaponry that the gladiators were carrying. Daniel wasn't sure but he thought he recognized the local versions of net, mace, short sword, whip -- with metal barbed tips? -- trident and chain-flail. There were no knives that he could see.

He saw the Marines hesitate. A look seemed to pass between them, and then ... oh God -- what were they up to?

*****

Makepeace and Harris had been waiting for this moment.

Nobody had been more surprised than Robert Makepeace when Jack O'Neill's crazy plan had proved to work. A short time after O'Neill had disappeared, the door to their cell had opened -- Harris had just finished draping the blankets over their bunks to hide their unwilling guests -- and another guard detail had roughly ordered them outside. Once through the door, tight, heavy chains had been put around their wrists and ankles. Walking was a bit difficult, but somehow they managed.

Their destination was pretty obvious. So when they found themselves on the floor of a big arena, gawked at by hundreds of strangers, they didn't even blink an eye. They had expected nothing less.

What they had not expected was the presence of Daniel Jackson, Teal'c and Jacob Carter among the spectators. Some unobtrusive checking revealed a few more quite familiar faces in native mufti near the exit of the place -- Major Parker and SG-8. The other Tok'ra Jack had mentioned were probably with them as well.

Then a female voice announced the upcoming combat to the visitors. With a start Makepeace recognized Darina, though the woman had changed remarkably. So Major Carter had been right; Darina was a Shal'tac. A grim smile played around his lips. He'd dearly love to get his hands on that bitch.

At a whispered "Sir!" from Harris, Makepeace switched his attention to the actual words the Shal'tac woman was saying. Carter would be brought to them soon? Shit! Jack was still out there, looking for her -- had maybe, hopefully, already found her.

They had to do something, buy him -- them -- some time.

So, when the guards took off the chains and led them to the side to choose their weapons for the fight, Makepeace made sure to get close enough to Harris not to be overheard. A few whispered explanations and orders and both men knew what to do.

They selected their weapons, turned around ... and attacked.

*****

Meanwhile Colonel Jack O'Neill was traipsing through yet another dimly-lit hallway, peering ahead into the dark, expecting to be discovered and hailed as an intruder any second.

But everything was quiet. Dark and suspiciously quiet.

Following the directions of his unwilling informant, he had already traversed several of these halls without encountering another soul. Either all the Shal'tac were outside following the auction or else there had to be another reason for the empty corridors.

The only reason that came to his mind wasn't one that he liked very much.

What if this unknown Treylaan had ordered everybody to stay away? What if he didn't want any witnesses to what might be happening inside his quarters? If there was no one around, no one could point a finger at him later.

Jack drew a deep breath.

If the captured guard had spoken the truth, he ought to have almost reached his destination. The big brass door at the end of this corridor had to hide what he was looking for. **Who** he was looking for.

A few more, stealthy steps brought him to the last obstacle in his path.

He drew another deep, steadying breath and squared his shoulders, unconsciously bracing himself for what he would find behind the door.

Slowly, cautiously, he tried the handle. It gave under his touch with deceptive ease. Silently the door opened. He pushed it out of his way and took a step inside the room.

The sight that met his disbelieving eyes exceeded every picture his worried mind had painted. Taking in the scene before him, he couldn't suppress an involuntary, traitorous reaction.

"**Oh my God**!"

*****

"Holy shi--!" An embarrassed cough masked the rest of the expletive. Eyes still bulging, Jack O'Neill stared at the big bed in the center of the room.

There, at one of the posts, cuffed to a pair of shining rings obviously installed there for this very purpose, gagged with a part of cloth that had evidently belonged to a dress not very long ago, hung the unmoving form of a silk-clad figure.

In front of this figure another person stood, panting and obviously very, very angry. Pissed would be a better expression, Jack observed in one corner of his mind. The rest of him was trying to cope with the simple relief -- and delight -- that flooded through him.

Major Samantha Carter, red-faced -- from exhaustion? -- but clearly in command of the situation, tore her gaze away from the unconscious hanging figure next to her and acknowledged the arrival of her CO with an awkward attempt at a smile.

"Sir." She was still trying to regain her breath. _What had she been doing?_

"Carter. You okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'm fine."

"You look it, too."

As soon as the sarcastic remark had passed his lips, Jack could have kicked himself. What a stupid, asshole thing to say. Apologizing would make it even worse. Scuffing his feet a bit, he winced inwardly, waiting for a barbed reply. None came.

Worried, he looked at her -- really looked **at** her. Noticed the torn, skimpy, see-through dress -- if you could call that a dress -- the ugly bruises on her arms that became more pronounced even as he was looking, the scraped, bloody wrists, the heaving chest, the flushed face, the angry glare with which she regarded the man chained to the bed post.

And she called that okay!

"Uh, Carter ...." As usual he didn't really know what to say, so he took refuge in some inanity. "... if you're quite finished, maybe we could ... you know ... leave?"

"Yes, sir. Right away. There's just one more thing." Carter reached up to the hanging man, grabbed one of his arms, unfastened a curious bracelet from his wrist and slapped it around her own. She had to suppress a wince when it came in contact with her torn skin.

"We may need this," she explained.

"Ah yes, I see." She smiled at that, as Jack had hoped she would.

Then Carter raised her head and took a really good look at **him** -- at his attire. And her smile turned into a grin, and that grin got imperceptibly broader by the second.

"Carter!"

His warning went unheeded – ah, well, she **tried** to squash the grin.

Unsuccessfully.

"Sssorry, sir."

At her half-apologetic/half-amused expression he gave in. He grinned, too. "It's the latest in Tok'ra fashion. Your dad selected it especially for me."

It sobered her. "Dad? He's here, too?

"Yep, being entertained by one of those Shal'tac ladies, Darina by name."

"Darina! The bitch!" She almost spat the words out.

"Sounds like you know the lady."

"I do! And I'd gladly renew the acquaintance.... On **my** terms this time, though."

"Uh-oh!"

"Yes!"

It sounded final. As for final, time to wrap this up and get out.

Wrap up?

"Uh, Carter ... I don't really know how to say this, but maybe you should get something to ... um ... " His hands made a swinging, round-and-round motion. He looked anywhere but at her.

It didn't take her long to get the message. A faint blush crept into Carter's cheeks. Her eyes searched the room. Finally, in lieu of anything better, she simply tore one of the window hangings down and enveloped her body in it, sari-style. It would have to do.

"I'm ready. Let's go, sir."

With a last, almost satisfied glance at the man who had thought her easy prey for his pleasure and who now presumably knew better, Major Samantha Carter exited the room.

He'd have to ask her about that later, Jack decided, wondering what had really happened, and followed her with a slight smile on his lips.

Yes, she was okay.

Now to get the others and off to home, sweet home. Ought to be easy. No sweat.

*****

If Robert Makepeace could have heard that thought, he'd have probably told Jack O'Neill where to stick his assessment of the situation, in very direct and certainly unprintable terms.

Makepeace was sweating -- profoundly so. Fighting these gladiators and the Shal'tac guards simultaneously was definitely anything but easy.

The only good thing was that the Tok'ra shield generators that Jack had handed to him and Harris in the cell were working. They diverted the energy of the Shal'tac weapons quite nicely. Consequently the guards had found themselves in a hand-to-hand, or rather sword-to-hand combat situation. Confronted with this new situation, they were baffled, and that worked in favor of the Marines, too.

The most serious problem Makepeace and Harris were facing at the moment were the

gladiators. Those guys really knew their business. And as the two Marines had found out the hard way, the Tok'ra shields only deflected energy. They did nothing to protect them from conventional weapons or from a rock-hard fist.

Desperately dodging yet another blow from a mace and at the same time getting out of the way of the sharp spikes of a trident that was aimed at his side, Makepeace wondered, not for the first time, what was keeping their supposed rescue forces from joining in the fun.

He didn't know it, but help was on the way.

*****

When Makepeace and Harris had turned on their captors, it had silenced the idle, expectant chatter of the crowds. Conversations stopped and every pair of eyes froze on the unequal struggle, incredulous and secretly delighted. This was even better than the promised gladiator combat.

Every pair of eyes, except one.

At the edge of his vision Daniel saw the shadow of the big Jaffa move, saw him grab their hostess, clamp a hand over her mouth and lift her off her feet to carry her toward his friends.

"Teal'c! No! What are you doing?"

Even before Jacob Carter's hushed, disapproving admonition could fully sink in, Daniel had already touched the big jewel right in the middle of his 'slave collar'. He knew the force field it generated was invisible to sight and touch, so he could only hope the Tok'ra device hidden there would work. He also knew what the Jaffa's answer to Jacob's inherent accusation would be.

"Colonel Makepeace and Sergeant Harris are in need of assistance. You will take the woman. I will assist SG-3."

With these words Teal'c shoved a startled, unresisting Darina into Jacob's arms, put one foot on the railing of the box and jumped over, down into the arena. He landed with what had to be a bone-jarring, teeth-rattling impact, but being Teal'c, he simply shook it off and plowed straight into the melee in front of him, letting the enemy find out how hard the end of the staff weapon and the fist of a Jaffa really were.

As he watched him, Daniel wondered for a moment why he didn't fire his staff weapon, but then he realized that the combatants were much too close together for Teal'c to be able to use the energy weapon safely. A stray shot might hit either Colonel Makepeace or Sergeant Harris. That was a risk Teal'c wasn't prepared to take. So he literally took the matter into his own hands.

The gladiators only noticed that the tables were about to turn when suddenly one of them was unceremoniously plucked right out of the knot of struggling people. This particular fighter had crept up on the two Marines from behind and had almost reached a position where he could take out the colonel, when Teal'c arrived on the scene. Colonel Makepeace was too busy getting out of the way of yet another swinging sword to notice the imminent danger, but Teal'c solved the matter by lifting the gladiator out of the way and throwing him even farther out of it. The man thudded into the wall of the arena. For him the fight was over.

Daniel didn't have the chance to further observe the proceedings in the arena.

"Lieutenant, cover our backs! Dr. Jackson, you lead the way. It seems we have no choice but to excuse ourselves from the party."

Jacob's tight voice told Daniel that he was not pleased with the turn of events, but what choice was there? They **had** come to save not only Sam, but also the men of SG-3, so they couldn't very well watch the Marines be butchered.

Daniel spared a last brief look at the men down in the arena. Teal'c, Makepeace and Harris weren't alone anymore. Two more men were racing to their position from the stands, two of Major Parker's men.

"Stop squirming or I will knock you out and carry you off like a sack of potatoes!" Selmak grimly warned Darina. One of Jacob's hands was firmly planted over the Shal'tac woman's mouth, so she couldn't alert anyone to what was going on. Mute, she started struggling violently, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but she was no match for the enhanced strength of the Tok'ra.

So far, nobody had noticed their involvement. Even the others in their box hadn't. Like everybody else, they had turned their eyes to the fighting in the arena. So tightly focused were their gazes that nothing could penetrate their fascination. Apparently something like this had never happened before.

Cautiously and -- as he hoped -- inconspicuously, Daniel made his way to what looked like the back exit of Darina's private box. He could only hope they wouldn't encounter any guards. He wasn't armed and his hand-to-hand skills were ... well ... nothing to brag about.

His luck held -- for the moment. What guards there were had to be converging on the arena. A part of Daniel's mind stayed with the men there, wondering, worrying, another part hastened ahead into the passage that -- hopefully -- would lead out of the arena complex, wondering and worrying, too. About the things -– or, rather, people -- they might meet up with there.

"Hurry, Dr. Jackson! We don't have all that much time," Jacob growled behind him.

Sam's dad had to be worried sick, Daniel realized. Sam was still unaccounted for -- but so was Jack. There were few things Daniel was really sure of, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty -- Jack wouldn't come back without Sam.

"Careful, Doc!" Pete Johnson's warning wasn't necessary. He, too, had seen the bright light at the end of the corridor. Sunshine? Did the back exit lead straight out into the street? Who would be waiting for them out there? Would anybody be waiting?

Yes -- the bright light was caused by the sun.

Yes -- their little escape tunnel ended in a street behind the arena.

And yes -- they ran into somebody there, somebody who was just as surprised as they were.

*****

"Colonel, they're trying to trap you, push you back to the far end of the arena." Captain Turner of SG-8 had fought his way to Colonel Makepeace's side. "We've got to clear a way back to the main exit. I don't know how long the major can hold it open for us."

Makepeace was rather busy at the moment. Most of the gladiators had seen the folly of their actions and had retreated, licking their wounds. The Shal'tac guards, however, were a different matter. A right hook, followed by a kick, expertly administered to knock the legs out from under the Shal'tac, and the Marine got rid of a particularly tenacious attacker. A brief glance around him showed him the truth of Turner's observation. From several directions fresh guards were pouring into the combat area.

Many -- too many!

"Break away! Fall back, everybody! Make your way to the exit!"

The colonel's shout easily carried over the din of the fighting. Everybody complied, everybody, that was, except for Harris. The sergeant was locked in a deadly struggle with the last of the gladiators, who seemed determined to get his test fight at all costs. Harris was in trouble.

Makepeace and Teal'c both came to his aid. The overanxious gladiator got his chance for a fight -- and lost.

"Harris, you okay?"

Harris was down on his knees, sucking in deep gulps of breath through his bruised larynx. He didn't manage more than a tonelessly wheezed "Sssir .... " .

"Teal'c, cover our backs!"

The Jaffa had anticipated the order. He took a protective stance in front of Harris, his staff weapon threatening the approaching guards.

Makepeace bent down, put one arm around Harris' shoulders and dragged the sergeant to his feet.

"I don't know how you feel about this, Harris, but I think it's high time we made our good-byes to our gracious hosts and got the hell outta here."

"Se--cond ... the... mo--tion, sir."

"We'll cover your flanks, sir." Turner and the second man from SG-8 were making good use of their zats. Unlike the SGC people, the Shal'tac didn't have any shield generators to protect them. They fell like flies.

With the aid of his CO, and the two SG-8 men and Teal'c taking care of the closing-in Shal'tac, Harris staggered to the exit. There Major Parker and some of the Tok'ra held their escape route open against still more guards.

Once they had all passed the arched portal, a curt order from Major Parker served to convince the Shal'tac that following them was a bad idea.

"Now! Fire!"

Surprised at the unexpected noise that resulted from the simple order, Makepeace swiveled around to look at the large arch that he had just passed through. A few choice shots at support beams let enough of the structure crumble down that nobody would be likely to pass through it in the near future.

"They will have other ways out of this place, you know that," one of the Tok'ra stated nervously. His eyes flitted along the street, checking first one side, then the other, evidently expecting pursuit any second. "We must leave immediately."

"We will not."

The deep voice brooked no argument.

"We have not yet achieved the retrieval of Major Carter. We will stay and search for her."

It would be easier to move a rock than the adamant Jaffa.

SG-8 definitely shared Teal'c's opinion. They moved to his side, openly opposing the Tok'ra.

Before the impending argument could develop into an open conflict, Makepeace took command, defusing the situation. "Turner, Teal'c, you're with me. We go looking for Carter and the others. Parker, you, Harris and the others make your way to the Stargate, together with the Tok'ra. Keep it open for us. We won't be long."

"Yes, sir. Sir, you might need this." Major Parker threw him a zat gun.

With a grin Makepeace caught the gun, hefting it expertly. Nodding his thanks at the major, he motioned to Teal'c and the captain to follow him and set off towards the buildings where they had been held, and where O'Neill and Carter still had to be.

Parker and the others didn't hesitate. They took off at a run in the direction of the city gates.

*****

"Dad!"

"Sam! Honey!"

In his haste to get rid of his burden, Jacob Carter simply shoved the Shal'tac woman into Pete Johnson's arms. Sam found herself enveloped in her father's tight embrace. Together with the others, Daniel looked on, grinning broadly.

"Sam! I've been so worried. When Doctor Jackson told me that you'd be expected to fight in the arena and the fight was to the death, I ...." Overwhelmed and slightly embarrassed, Jacob kept the rest of what he had wanted to say to himself. Instead he held his daughter.

"I'm okay, Dad," Sam tried to reassure him. "I'm fine. Really." She sounded embarrassed, too. But she returned the hug. For a moment she seemed to allow herself the luxury of being safe in her father's arms.

Daniel's attention was drawn from the happy sight, when Jack noisily cleared his throat next to him.

"Jack! Are you alright? Is Sam really okay? Makepeace and Harris are still in the arena, fighting. We've got to do something to get them out of there."

Daniel blurted out his questions and news all at once. When he had apprehensively stepped out into the street behind the arena, he had expected guards, ready to pounce on them, or at the very least some Shal'tac about to call the hounds down on them. What he hadn't expected was to see Sam and Jack come pelting along that same street. A Jack with a curious bag slung over his shoulder and a Sam ...

A Sam who was returning her father's hug with gusto.

A Sam who looked decidedly the worse for wear.

A Sam clad in ... a curtain?

Noting his quizzical glance, Jack produced a crooked grin and shrugged. "She says she's okay."

Then he turned serious. "What's this about Makepeace and Harris? And, by the way, how come **she**'s along for the ride?" He gestured at Johnson, who had his hands full containing a silent, but indignantly glaring, still squirming Darina.

"Uh, don't know. Teal'c practically threw her at Jacob before he jumped into the arena."

"Before he **what**?"

"Jumped down twenty feet into the arena to help Makepeace and Harris. They were fighting ... oh ... six gladiators and about a dozen guards or more. They needed help."

"And we were very glad to get it."

Unnoticed by anybody, Makepeace, Turner and Teal'c had also found them.

"Makepeace! Where ...?"

"... are the others?" Makepeace finished Jack's question. "Off to the gate. They'll hold it open for us."

"You okay, Makepeace?"

"Yep, what about Carter?"

"I'm fine, sir."

Sam, with Jacob still holding on to her hand, had come up to them. She raised her head to look at the Marine, concern clouding her eyes.

"Sir, Sergeant Harris ...?" Uncertainly she let her query trail off, searching the shadows for the absent sergeant, but Makepeace immediately put her unspoken fears to rest.

"On his way to the gate, ... a bit battered, but nothing to worry about."

"Good. I'm glad, sir." A relieved smile lit up Sam's face. Then her glance fell on the Shal'tac woman who stood imprisoned in Lieutenant Johnson's iron grip. "Hello, Darina. How nice to meet you again." The tone of Sam's voice and the glacial glint in her eyes could have turned the other woman into a frozen sculpture on the spot.

A disdainful, regal and similarly frosty look was her only answer. Apparently Darina now deemed it unworthy of her station to acknowledge her former slaves in any way.

"Uh, ... speaking of the Stargate.... Much as I hate to break up this old home weekend, but shouldn't we be gone, too?" Jack threw a pointed look around him. They'd deal with the Shal'tac later. His hands twitched and Daniel knew that Jack refrained from accompanying the look with a shooing motion -- but only barely.

Before he could follow his question through with a corresponding action though, both Daniel and Jacob started to speak.

"Jack, there's a problem."

"Colonel, I'm afraid, it won't be quite as easy as that."

"Huh? Never mind, I'm not sure I want to know, but I probably don't have a choice. You can tell me about it on the way. Let's move."

*****

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! Isn't there anything about this cursed mission that works on the first try?" With an exasperated, why-me expression Jack O'Neill glared around him.

With Daniel explaining the latest problem, their little group had sped through the mostly empty streets, towards the city gates. Those few Shal'tac they encountered, had the good sense to stay out of the way of a group of people that signaled danger like these strangers unmistakably did.

The information had caused Jack to simply stop dead in his tracks, his eyes blazing with frustration. Now everybody clustered around him, panting more or less heavily. "You say the city gates are all secured and kept shut by force fields for the duration of the festival?"

"Yes, " Daniel agreed, out of breath. He bent down, his chest heaving with the need to fill his lungs with oxygen . " Wow ... am I ... out of shape." Several deep breaths later he continued. "The other slaves told me ... that the Shal'tac keep those energy barriers up ... until all the bills have been paid. ... It seems in the past there have been several buyers ... who absconded with their new acquisitions without paying the agreed price.... Oh, yeah, this is better."

Jack had waved them on again, and they had resumed their way to the gates at a more leisurely pace. It gave them time to ponder the new situation and maybe find a solution.

"What happens if anybody wants to leave before the festival is over and he can prove he has paid?" Makepeace inquired.

"I don't know," Daniel had to admit.

"I think I do."

All eyes turned to Sam. Her conspiratorial smile was directed at Makepeace. Baffled, he returned the look. Then understanding dawned and a huge grin split his face.

"Yeah, sure, of course. Good thinking, Major!"

When nothing else was forthcoming, Jack's sarcasm surfaced again, proof of his fraying nerves. "Well? What? Would somebody, please, enlighten us lower beings?"

Makepeace merely smirked and motioned for Sam to do the honors. "Go ahead, Major. It was your idea."

"Thank you, sir." Sam faced the others. "On P7X-935 they kept us in a tent that was surrounded by a force field to keep the captives in. Whenever one of the Shal'tac wanted to enter or leave, they took the barrier down. I am sure that Darina had a means to control the field, and I think I know how she did it."

Her hand shot out and grasped the arm of the Shal'tac woman. Deftly she pushed the sleeve of her dress up to reveal a broad golden bracelet.

"Hey, that looks like the thing you took off that guy back there, Carter."

"Yes, sir." Sam raised her own arm, displaying an exact twin of the trinket. "I think these are used to control the force fields. That's why I took it off Treylaan."

"You think these things will get us through the city gate?"

"Yes, sir. I do."

"Then let's see that we get there."

Jack pushed to the front of the group, increasing their pace again. The city gates couldn't be far away.

Jacob now walked at his daughter's side, looking her up and down for the first time. A frown appeared on his forehead.

"You really all right, Sam?"

She threw him a quick smile, meant to reassure -- and to shut him up. "Sure, Dad. I'm fine."

"Hmph!" He didn't sound convinced and tried another angle. "By the way, Sam, who's this Treylaan?"

"Oh, just someone I encountered on P7X-935, and then met here again." Sam studiously avoided her father's inquiring, worried gaze. She didn't want to elaborate. Not now. "We have two bracelets and Darina here to tell us how they work. It should be no problem to get through the city gates."

At her blunt sidestepping, Makepeace raised a questioning eyebrow at O'Neill. The other man answered it with a shake of his head and a shrug that said **later**.

Jacob hadn't missed the silent exchange. His look said that he'd be in for 'later', too.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c, who had been leading the way, stopped, and at his raised hand everybody else followed suit.

Now they could all hear it.

Trouble ahead!

"Johnson, keep your eyes -- and your hands -- on our guest. We don't want to lose the lady, do we?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir."

Jack turned around and surveyed the rest of his little strike force.

"Makepeace, Carter, Daniel and you too, General! You stay on this side. Keep us covered. I don't want any nasty surprises creeping up on us from behind." He shrugged the bag off his shoulder and wordlessly handed it to Carter. She had wanted to take it along, she could carry it now. "Johnson, you and your dancing partner, stay under cover. The others with me. Let's find out what's going on over there."

Cautiously he approached the corner of the large building that hid the source of the trouble.

With each step the clamor increased.

He knew the sounds, recognized them from numerous past experiences.

Somebody was fighting for their lives on the other side!

Jack didn't need three guesses to figure out who was doing the fighting. SG-8 and the Tok'ra had come up against the city guards. They probably wouldn't mind some help.

When Jack risked a glance around the edge of the building his first impression was one of chaos.

Energy bolts flying to and fro, people hiding behind every available nook and cranny, curses and shouts filling the air, things going poof, and shields flashing when a bolt hit -- the people behind those shields had to be Parker and his merry men_. Good! The Tok'ra gadgets seem to work. _Their friends were huddled behind some wagons. Right in front of them, though access to it was cut off by about a dozen guards, was the main city gate, protected and effectively closed to travelers by a force field that gave off a colorful array of sparks whenever a stray shot found its way to the shimmering, deadly curtain.

And beyond it the Stargate -- and freedom -- beckoning in the distance.

Time to open the door.

Carter thought they had the key, so now all they had to do was clear the way, get to the lock, turn said key -- figuratively speaking, of course -- and get the hell out.

_What's the saying? Every journey begins with the first step?_

Step one: get rid of the guards.

Jack raised one of the zat guns that Captain Turner had thoughtfully brought along and had distributed to those who had, until then, been weaponless. "Activate shields, everybody. Remember, those cute little doohickies might mean the difference between life and death for some of us." He followed his own advice, and started to choose his first target.

"Damn, they've got the major and the others pinned down." Turner had taken a peek as well. His voice was grim. Those were his teammates out there.

"Yeah!" Jack spared the captain a short glance. A quick tap on the young captain's shoulder got his attention. "Turner, Teal'c! On my mark, we'll spread out and let those Shal'tac gooks have it from this side. We've got to fight a breach into that cordon first, to give the major an escape route. Getting rid of those guys will also give us access to the force field mechanism." _I hope._ he added silently.

Parker and his men were practically surrounded. Their Tok'ra shields were still holding, but who knew for how long. Jack took careful aim. At his first shot Turner and Teal'c moved out into the cluttered square in front of the gates, opening fire as well, taking out two more of the Shal'tac right away.

To the Shal'tac guards this new enemy came as a big surprise. With the strangers trapped, they had felt too secure to have protected their backs. Only a few of them were able to return fire before they were felled by the zats.

"Parker, Harris, everybody! Get your asses over here! We'll cover for you." The sounds of discharging energy weapons from behind him told Jack that they'd better hurry. Reinforcements had arrived. For the other side, unfortunately.

"Sir!"

"Carter, what are you doing here?" He glared down at the crouching figure at his side. "I told you --"

"The Shal'tac have found us, sir." She cut him off. "We can't hold them for long. There are just too many. We've got to get out **now**!"

One look at her face showed him beyond doubt that she was dead serious.

"Okay!" Parker and the others had left their cover and had plunked down behind some crates near the still-barred way out, helping Teal'c and Turner to hold off the rest of the guards on this side.

"Carter, get Johnson and that woman here. Close the force field down. We'll buy you as much time as we can."

"Yes, sir." She was already gone before he could add anything. Only seconds later she was back, with Johnson in tow. The Marine dragged his prize along.

"You'll never get out! You're worthless even as slaves! You're filth! We'll kill you. All of you!" Darina had evidently forgotten her earlier resolution of being aloof and regal. She was screaming abuse until a hard Marine fist shut her up.

"Shut up, bitch! You can talk when Major Carter asks you to, not before."

"Which means **now**." Her eyes hard and without mercy, Carter planted herself in front of their Shal'tac captive. "Tell me, Darina, how does this thing work?"

"Why don't you find it out yourself? I will tell you nothing."

"Oh, I think you will."

One ear on the 'conversation' between Carter and the Shal'tac woman, Jack dodged a stray energy blast and made his way back to the street which Makepeace, Jacob Carter and Daniel were defending against another contingent of guards. _Damn! Where did all those guys suddenly come from? This is a festival day for them. Don't they know they are supposed to have the day off? _

The sounds that followed him made him wince. Carter really meant business.

Makepeace spared him a glance between two shots. "What's going on?"

"Nothing special." Jack's zat blast took out a particularly imprudent Shal'tac. "Just Carter asking Darina a few questions."

"Sounds more like she's also settling an account."

"Can you blame her for that?"

"Nope."

A few more shots were exchanged without any serious damage to either party.

"Come on, guys, let's fall back. If Carter doesn't find the 'open sesame' soon, we'll be lost. We can't hold out for much longer."

On Jack's signal Daniel and Jacob left their cover and backed away a few steps toward of the city gates, when Jacob suddenly spun around. "Damn! I almost forgot! What about the kids?"

"Kids? What **kids**?" Jack stared at the older man. _No more complications, __please__._

"The ones I bought." Unblinking, Jacob returned the stare.

"The ones you **bought**!?"

"Yes, at the auctions. I had to do something besides sit there and look aloof." Jacob retorted, defensive yet emphatic as well. "Is there any chance that we can get them and take them home with us?"

"Well, where are they?"

"I don't know." Helplessly Jacob's glance moved to Daniel -- who slowly, regretfully shook his head. "Sorry, general, I only know that they were to be kept in a slave compound until you had paid." He shrugged and looked at Jack for help.

"Don't look at **me**, I don't know where **anything** is in this lousy place. I'm just passing through, remember?" Grimly Jack surveyed the faces of the two men before him. Jacob had taken refuge with his military training; the customary impenetrable shield was up and his face gave nothing away –- which in itself screamed an unmistakable message at Jack –- and Daniel's eyes held that haunted, pleading **and hopeful** look that Jack knew so well. He was expecting him to work a miracle -- pull a rabbit out of his hat, wave his magic wand and make everything okay again.

Silently, Jack sighed. A cursory check showed him that Makepeace was still holding off the Shal'tac -- but not for much longer. Several bolts of energy struck the wall behind them. Automatically, they all ducked. Their time was running out.

Jack turned his head back to the two men at his side. They'd probably hate him for what he was going to say next, but he really didn't have a choice. "Sorry, guys, but there isn't anything we can do." Another volley of energy bursts almost drowned out his words. "We've gotta leave. **Now!** There's no time to go searching for them."

"But Jack –-"

"Sorry, Daniel. There is **no time**."

"**Jack, **you don't **know** -–"

"**Not now**, Daniel! You can tell me about it later." Jack gave his young friend a slight shove in the direction of the city gates –- and freedom. **"Go!"**

Another shot that hit the plaster right next to Daniel finally got him moving -- reluctantly. He and Jacob slowly worked their way back. Jack stayed with Makepeace, firing at anything that looked like it might belong to the encroaching enemy.

"Sir! Colonel O'Neill! Colonel Makepeace." Turner landed between them with a thud. "Major Carter has deactivated the force field. We can leave."

"**Yess!"**

A hard thump on the shoulder threw the unsuspecting captain against a wall. Confused, his eyes stayed on O'Neill for moment. Then he recognized the broad, relieved grin on the colonel's face and couldn't help but echo it.

"Let's blow this popstand, kids."

"Whatever you say, Dad."

"Shut up, Makepeace."

"Oh, by the way, Jack! Before I forget again to mention it.... Nice dress! Suits you. You should wear it more often."

"I love you, too, Robert."

Still firing random shots at the advancing guards, they hurried toward the city gates, where the others were waiting. When everybody had passed the broad portal, Teal'c and his staff weapon bought them the time to put some distance between the fugitives and the city walls.

"I think now would be the right time, Sergeant." Major Parker handed Harris a primer. With a grimace the Marine pressed the switch. A loud and very satisfying explosion shut the city gates again and cut off any pursuit.

"That's that, then. Let's make for the gate, kids. Hammond's probably biting his nails, waiting for us."

*****

_SEVERAL HOURS LATER_

"Okay, everybody! You know the procedure.... And, people, don't forget we've got to test for those strange energy levels. I want the reports of who, how often they got hit, when and what you can still measure of it, ASAP."

Janet Fraiser watched as the last reluctant strays of her latest batch of returning Stargate travelers resignedly deployed themselves around the infirmary, to suffer the same old routine -- some of them groaning and complaining in the same old manner, too.

"Great! Another test! Not enough that I feel like a pincushion every time I leave this wonderful place, now I'm also a lab rat. Why don't you take a little more blood? I'm sure there's still some in there somewhere."

Janet didn't have to look to know whose complaint was filtering down to her through the closed curtains. With a suppressed grin she turned around to her own patient.

"Let me have a look at that, Sam." Slowly she unwrapped the bandages around her friend's wrists, wincing at the sight of the scraped, sometimes raw flesh that emerged from under the bloody cloth. "How did **that** happen?"

"Oh, it just happened. The Tok'ra put something on it, but I don't think it really helped."

In Janet's mind warning bells started to ring at the flat, evasive answer. When she raised an eyebrow and tried to hold Sam's glance, the other woman turned her head and started to bite her lower lip.

"Sam?"

Finally, with a deep sigh, Sam yielded. Hesitantly she met her friend's eyes.

"All right Janet, since you won't let up ...." The half-exasperated echo of a smile accompanied her words, though it didn't quite reach Sam's eyes. "And if you truly want to know ...."

For a moment her gaze seemed to turn inward, her mind light years away. When she started to speak it was haltingly, as if she were carefully editing her report.

"There was this guy, a Shal'tac, who ... uh ... thought of adding me to his ... uh ... harem, you could say ... I suppose." She shrugged as if she were indifferent, but Janet noticed a blush starting to color her cheeks. "And ... well, he had me shackled.... Then he wanted to find out ... things, and ... it took some effort, but I managed to wriggle out of the cuffs. Scraped my wrists in the process. Those irons were tight. That's all."

"Hmmm." Janet bent her attention back to the injured wrists. She gently applied some ointment to the torn skin. Sam hissed in pain.

"Sorry about that. It's a combined anesthetic and antibiotic, so it will heal and also soothe the inflamed areas. Takes a minute to start working." She stood back and cleaned her hands. "Let me get a new bandage." Janet rummaged through the items on a tray, keeping one eye covertly on Sam. "What about the guy?"

"Huh?" Flexing her wrists cautiously, Sam was lost in her own thoughts. "Oh, him. He was so sure he had the upper hand. He didn't believe a woman would really be able to oppose him successfully. Certainly didn't expect me to know how to fight. Especially as he thought he had me bound and helpless." Suddenly she chuckled. "Now he knows better. The last time I saw him he looked like a trussed turkey."

Janet liked the proud, satisfied expression that had appeared on Sam's face with her last words. It was proof that whatever had happened to her, it hadn't been anything earth-shattering, and that Sam had been able to cope with it on her own. The harem thing obviously bothered her much more than the attempted rape, because Janet was sure that it was that which Sam was trying to hide behind her light words.

Janet continued wrapping Sam's wrists loosely.

"So you showed him, hmmm?"

"Yes." Satisfaction turned into a broad grin. "Yes, I did."

"Good." Janet smiled approvingly at her friend. She patted the end of the bandage in place. "Okay, that's done. Now for those tests. Give me your arm."

Almost automatically, she took the obligatory blood sample. Then a thought occurred to her.

"And when we're finished here I want to run some tests on the stuff you brought back in that jug. You say it countered the effects of the energy shots?"

"Yes, it helped enormously. Reduced the pain almost immediately to a bearable level. Maybe it also does other things."

Sam looked at the simple brown jar that innocently sat on a nearby table. "When the colonel and I left the building, I remembered that there had been some in the room where I'd been kept. So we made a detour for one of the jars. I thought it might be useful to you."

"And it certainly will."

The deep Tok'ra voice startled both women. Jacob Carter had silently entered the cubicle.

Janet wondered how long Sam's father had been lurking in the infirmary and what he might have overheard. Considering the thoughtful look he gave his daughter, a lot, probably everything.

Come to think of it, all during their conversation, it had been suspiciously quiet in the room. There had been none of the typical grumbling, whining or good-natured bantering. Which probably meant that a lot of ears had been turned their way.

Apparently Sam had been pretty reluctant to part with any information about what had taken place -- not only to her father, but to her team and to the others as well. So Janet hadn't been the only one who'd been concerned about her.

Janet was sure that they all knew as much as she did now. She didn't mind. It would save Sam the trouble -- and the embarrassment -– of telling it again, and the men could stop worrying now.

*****

_SOME TIME LATER_

"Carter? What's wrong?"

Sam's father and his Tok'ra friends had just left Earth again and Jack O'Neill was the last of the SGC personnel in the Stargate room who had seen them off. He had almost passed through the big metal sliding door when he cast a final, automatic glance back at the gate and noticed the figure still standing forlornly at the foot of the ramp.

At his query, she slowly turned her head. Pensive, troubled eyes looked back at him. Something was definitely wrong. He took a few steps back into the room. "Carter?"

A deep sigh answered him. Then she tried to scrounge up a smile. It was a miserable failure. "It's nothing, sir. Really."

"If you say so, Carter."

"Honestly, sir. I'm all right." She hesitated and let her eyes linger on the Stargate for a second. "It's just .... " Another sigh escaped her.

"Yes... ?" he gently prompted. Whatever it was, he was sure it had to do with their last disastrous mission. The sooner they dealt with it, the better.

When she finally met his questioning glance, he was almost shocked to notice the shadow of real pain in her eyes. "Those people on the Shal'tac world ... the girls ... and all the others ... "

Then he understood. "The slaves?"

"Yes, sir."

He could see how she had to struggle to find the right words to voice her feelings. He thought he knew now what was bothering her. "You got away. You, Makepeace and Harris, you made it back to freedom ... and all those others didn't. That's it, Carter, isn't it?"

She nodded softly. "It doesn't seem right somehow, sir."

He took a deep breath. He hadn't been present at the auctions. He hadn't seen those kids paraded in front of merciless buyers, hadn't seen them suffer the degradation of being poked and prodded and presented as nothing but just so much meat.

Daniel had told him -- after their medical check-up, when Jack finally had the time to listen. A deeply disturbed and downcast Daniel, who wasn't really happy that **he** had got away to freedom unscathed. The icy calm that had fallen over Teal'c's face at the telling had shown him that the Jaffa hadn't been unaffected either. And if he was any judge at all, neither had Jacob Carter.

Daniel had mentioned again that the Tok'ra had bid for and bought three teenagers with the intention of setting them free once they were off the Shal'tac world. Now Jack knew what it had meant to them that they hadn't been able to retrieve the kids. He wished there had been a way. If things hadn't been so tight at the end.... He sighed softly.

In a way, the Shal'tac had left their marks on all of them.

"Carter, we can only do so much. With a lot of luck and ingenuity, we were able to free you and the jarheads. Sometimes -- when we're **extremely** lucky -- we can help a few others, but not this time."

"Yes, sir. I know that."

She did, he realized, intellectually. But her emotions were still telling her a different story -- with the main topic being guilt. "Carter, as much as we may want to, we can't change the galaxy overnight. Even at the SGC, wonders take a little longer."

Well, at least it elicited a small twitching of her lips.

"But I'll promise you one thing, Carter." At the deep seriousness in his voice she looked up, surprised. "As soon as Doc Fraiser and the Tok'ra have figured out how that stuff works that you made me lug back, and if those shields still work without any problems, we'll go back there and shut down that rat's nest. We'll show them how much fun slavery is."

At first she perked up at his emphatic declaration, but then her shoulders sagged again and she shook her head resignedly. "The general would never let us do it. It's not our problem."

"We'll find a way, Carter. I'm a very resourceful kinda guy."

When he winked at her, he finally got a small, but real smile out of her. Jack gestured for her to accompany him out of the gateroom. "I promise, I'll find a way, Carter. What do you say, are you game?"

She straightened and her step took on renewed vigor. "Yes, sir. I'll be there. Just say when."

Side by side they walked out of the Stargate room.

THE END


End file.
